


Song of Songs

by moonfleur



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Family Feels, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mythology References, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Pirates, Platonic Relationships, Sirens, friends to strangers to lovers, platonic minwon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 48,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfleur/pseuds/moonfleur
Summary: What do you do when you meet a siren? You cover your ears as best as you can, and pray that the tide doesn't wash you away.-Wonwoo meets Junhui for the first time when he is sixteen. He meets Junhui again a decade later but neither of them are the people they were when they first met.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 32
Kudos: 94
Collections: SVT Fear Exchange





	Song of Songs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whaleonthemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whaleonthemoon/gifts).



> > For Rai,
>> 
>> Happy Belated Birthday♥︎ I’ve always wanted to write a bigger wonhui for you so here it is. I hope the fact that it is a behemoth makes up for the fact that this is so many months late. 
>> 
>> Thank you for always being so supportive of everything, from my writing to my emotional breakdowns LMAO. Thank you for always listening too. I love you and I hope you enjoy it ♥︎ 
> 
> For everyone else,
> 
> I hope you enjoy this lengthy contribution to Wonhui nation.
> 
> PS. This has barely been edited, so any mistakes you see are all my own & I apologise.

Wonwoo opens his eyes and he finds himself _there_. It looks absolutely the same as that day — the early summer sun still low making its way across the lower half of the horizon, the sound of the waves as they crash along the shore in front of him. Hell, he even thinks he can smell it — the salt on his tongue, the spray that falls across his face, the way the sand feels, soft and a bit damp between his toes, still cold from the night before.

He waits, just for a second, because he knows he can here. Now. He wants to savour the moment before his feet take him to the edge of the water and the water starts to leech all the warmth from his skin. An exact replica of sensation replayed from that day all those years ago.

He steps into the water and he swears he can feel it — the way the heat leaves him through his feet (or is it the cold entering, he’s never really known), the way the undercurrent tugs at his ankles, threatens to bowl him over if he so much as takes a misstep. But he won’t. His feet are practised, familiar with the movements of the water and her ways and they brace against every tug.

It shouldn’t be long now; it never takes long — not back then and not all the times he’s been here in his head, in dreams and daydreams, in the idle thoughts that manage to slip through the cracks in his well-honed mental armour sometimes. It doesn’t take long at all this time too, barely a few swells of the waves before Wonwoo spots him.

His head breaks the surface first, dark blue-green hair plastered against his head as he looks around. His eyes are inquisitive as he studies the shore and the sheer cliff face that hangs over this corner of the beach and then his eyes meet Wonwoo’s and they light up completely, sapphire-emeralds in a face too beautiful to be real. Even from this distance, his eyes sparkle, and as much as Wonwoo wants to attribute it to the reflection of the sun against the surface of the water he knows that the light comes from the boy himself. And Wonwoo finds himself blinded.

The boy swims towards him but his strokes are odd, different, like the use of his arms is merely a formality. Wonwoo would have been punished if his instructor had ever caught him swimming like that. He would have been dumped into the middle of the pool and told to tread water for five minutes _‘without using your hands since you don’t seem to need them anyway’_. Wonwoo shudders at the way his instructor’s voice still rings in his ears. A horrible man.

His attention returns to the boy when he draws nearer and that is when he notices, finally able to see the dark grey shark’s tail where the boy’s legs should be. If he was being honest, he would have bolted, every instinct in him screaming at him to run, to cover his ears and to make sure they’re covered tight because he’s heard the stories — fishermen’s and old wives’ tales about the creatures of the deep, humans with tails instead of legs, whose voices and pretty faces will lead you to an early, watery grave.

_Sirens._

He tries to run, he swears, but he is already entranced and the boy hasn’t even opened his mouth yet. The boy’s eyes bore deep into his and he already finds himself wading deeper into the brilliant cerulean water, completely disregarding the fact that he is still fully clothed. Water seeps into the loose cotton pants he has on and it starts to billow around him, stopping only when he reaches the boy— siren— creature.

He really is a beautiful thing with sharp features and keen eyes that glitter a deep sapphire when he smiles at Wonwoo with a smile that seems just a tad bit lopsided. He even looks to be around Wonwoo’s age too, although Wonwoo isn’t exactly sure how the aging systems work with mythical creatures.

The boy (Wonwoo decides he will not refer to him as a siren) swishes his tail once, which allows him to draw himself up out of the water until he is standing at eye level with Wonwoo. He opens his mouth and Wonwoo holds his breath, bracing himself to be sung to his death. But the boy doesn’t sing, instead he merely smiles once more before speaking.

“Hi,” he says, eyes sparkling as he runs a hair through the damp hair that is falling over his face and Wonwoo decides that maybe they don’t need to sing for Wonwoo to die because his voice is already a song unto itself, rich and melodic while still having the higher tones of a young boy on the verge of puberty. It has Wonwoo questioning the validity of all the stories’ he’s heard all over again because how could someone who looked and sounded like the creature before him lead men to their deaths.

The voice does other things to him too, a stirring begins in his chest that he’d buried deep a long time ago, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to be away from here. From this beach, from the boy with the beautiful face and blue hair, from wherever this is really. But he knows he is stuck, at least until he plays the part he’s been assigned — lines learnt that fateful day a decade ago and long-since immortalised in his mind.

So he bites the bullet and smiles back at the boy. “Hi,” he breathes, a little bit shy, a little bit apprehensive, a perfect reenactment.

The boy’s smile widens then, revealing teeth that are too sharp to be safe and too white to be human but the smile itself is soft as he extends a hand. Unsteady, as if the gesture is unfamiliar to him.

“You can call me Junhui.”

»»————-————-««

Wonwoo wakes with a start.

He can still see Junhui, with his perfectly sculpted features and deep blue eyes behind his eyelids. He can see the way the sun falls, reflecting against the droplets of water scattered across Junhui’s shoulders as they stood there under the morning sun, doing nothing more than staring at each other. It is an image that has long since seared itself into his memory and he is wont to try and forget it.

The tight feeling in his chest is still there though and he clutches at it, willing himself to take slow, even breaths. God, it had only been a dream and yet Junhui had still had that effect on him — heart stuttering as though it was threatening to beat its way out of his chest. Even now, he can still feel the tingles that danced across his skin.

He wishes the dream had continued, past their first meeting on the beach to the weeks they spent after just lying in the surf while they played a very discontinuous game of twenty questions because neither of them knew anything about each other. The dreams never go that far though, always stopping right there when Junhui introduces himself for the first time and Wonwoo always wakes from them aching.

It is the same tonight, the same ache lies heavy in his chest as he brings his knees up so that he can rest his head on them. Beside him, Mingyu stirs, the sheets rustling with his movement and he stills, hoping he hasn’t woken Mingyu up. But Wonwoo is never that fortunate, and Mingyu has always been too attuned to him for his own good.

There is more rustling and then an arm is encircling his waist, the only warning he gets before Mingyu pulls him closer, just a bit. Just enough for Mingyu to press his face into the small of his back.

“Were you dreaming again?” Mingyu’s words come out slurred, his voice syrupy and rough from sleep and disuse.

Wonwoo hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything else because Mingyu already knows. He’s known about the dreams since Wonwoo started having them almost ten years ago, knows about Junhui too, even though Wonwoo had never thought to introduce them at the time.

“You should try and get some more sleep, Woo. You know we have to be up early tomorrow.” He supplements his words with a gentle tug around Wonwoo’s middle and Wonwoo cedes, allowing Mingyu to pull him back down to the bed. Mingyu moves to pull his arm away, to give Wonwoo his space back, but Wonwoo places a hand on his arm to hold him in place. A silent question.

Mingyu understands because, of course he does. It would be a bit hard not to after knowing someone for most of your collective lives. So he stays, sighing as he curls his arm tighter around Wonwoo to brings them closer together. Outside the window of their bedroom, he knows the moon is full because it throws rays of moonlight across the wooden floor and the end of their bed but the moon herself is hidden from view, too high up for Wonwoo to see from his advantage point.

He imagines he can see it though, as though following the moonbeams back to their origin will allow him to see it through some kind of mystical moonlight refraction. His smiles at the thought. He wonders if Junhui is somewhere, looking up at the same moon, if Junhui still remembers him, still thinks about him, at least in passing. The strange human boy he met on a beach one summer a decade ago now.

Behind him, Mingyu shifts, pressing his face into Wonwoo’s shoulder with a disgruntled sound. “You are thinking so loudly. Go to sleep.”

Wonwoo sighs. “Fine. Don’t be such a nag.”

Mingyu pinches his side in response, which has Wonwoo flinching violently before he settles back against Mingyu, allowing the warmth and comfort of his best friend — and the man he is technically still betrothed to — to finally seep into him and lull him into a more relaxed state. His eyes slip shut and he sees dark blue eyes and a sharp smile one last time before he falls asleep.

»»————-————-««

The sun is just cresting over the horizon when he is woken up for the second time in the last few hours, this time by Mingyu himself who is already changed into something more presentable. In his case, it is a cream-coloured sleeveless cotton shirt that has been tucked into thin, loose-fitting cotton pants that is a kind of brick colour. Pretty standard _uniform,_ as far as uniform goes for pirates anyway, especially when you consider that none of them can afford to have variety when it comes to wardrobe options.

He is dragged unceremoniously out of bed by Mingyu into the tiny little closet in the corner of their room that contains the single basin that holds the week’s supply of fresh water along with what looks like a toilet but is really just a straight shot into the ocean. Wonwoo gives his face a quick rinse anyway before he changes into his own clothes — very much like Mingyu’s accept they have sleeves and he prefers his pants black to Mingyu’s red.

The minute he steps out of their shared bedroom room he is hit with the smell of the sea, salty and kind of damp is the air that whips around him, already covering him in a very thin layer of salt water. It is comfortable, familiar, and it immediately brings a smile to his lips despite the fact that it is barely past sunrise and he still has not eaten.

There is a clatter of footsteps on the deck above him — the main deck — where he assumes the rest of his crew (probably just Seungcheol, if he’s being honest) is already getting the ship ready to hoist anchor. He is about to head up to join him when his stomach decides to protest, very loudly, much to Mingyu’s amusement and he has to make a detour to the lower deck to grab a couple of stale buns and an apple from one of the barrels in the storeroom..

The lower deck is really a low-ceilinged hall that spans the entirety of the bottom of the ship. The aft end is where the unofficial ‘dining’ area is at, along with the little closets that hold their food stares and the many barrels of fresh water they were able to get at whatever poor seaside town they were able to make port at before. The fore end is generally empty except for where there are a few holding cells, the metal bars that frame them drilled haphazardly into the floors and walls. Not that they ever take any prisoners but Wonwoo figured it was something that might come in handy one day, should the need ever arise.

The dining area is where he finds Seokmin and Soonyoung, seated at one of the few tables bolted into the wooden floor of the deck, buns in hand as they laugh at something or other. Wonwoo smiles, they are always laughing at something or other.

He nudges Mingyu who is already heading in the direction of their friends — crewmate would be the more appropriate term but Wonwoo stopped thinking about them as mere crewmates a few years ago — and tells him to make sure they’re both up on the deck within the next half hour. Mingyu nods an affirmation and then he is gone, leaving Wonwoo to head up to the main deck alone.

That is where he finds Seungcheol, hands already busy as he dashes between masts to unfurl the sails and ready them for travel. A task that would normally have taken two men but, of course, it doesn’t faze Seungcheol in the slightest. Wonwoo spots Vernon sitting high up in the crow’s nest, the spyglass he usually uses lying in his lap as he rolls a joint of tobacco between his fingers. He gives Wonwoo a two-fingered salute as he walks past, which Wonwoo returns with a slight shake of his head and a small smile. More than five years together and he still doesn’t fully understand Vernon and his eccentricities.

He comes up beside Seungcheol who is just tying off the last sail on the mizzenmast. “You ready for today?”

Seungcheol looks at him, hands still working deftly at the knot, a skill Wonwoo will never be able to attain no matter how many years he spent on a ship. He looks a little tired, then again they all look a little tired. “The raid?” Wonwoo nods and Seungcheol shrugs. “It’ll be the same as all the others right? Supply ship, with barely a squad of trained fighters on board? Should be easy enough.”

Wonwoo sighs, leaning against the base of the mast where the ropes are tied off. He looks out at the horizon, sky slowly shifting from the bright orange-pink of sunrise to the brighter blue of a clear morning. “Remember, we don’t kill civilians, yeah?”

Seungcheol nods, glancing at the knot once to check on it before he looks back up at Wonwoo and his brows furrow slightly. “Another bad night?”

Wonwoo shakes his head, offers a smile that he knows barely passes as convincing. “It’s nothing. Just the usual.”

The frown doesn’t disappear and he knows Seungcheol doesn’t believe him in the slightest but the man doesn’t press and he is grateful for that. Instead, Seungcheol gives his shoulder a squeeze, something only he, as the oldest member of Wonwoo’s crew can get away with. “Let’s hope this next raid gives us something that can help with that, hm? If not, I can always brew you something.”

Wonwoo’s smile deepens into something more genuine then and he places a hand on top of Seungcheol’s. “Thanks.” He won't accept and Seungcheol knows that, because he never does. The dreams are the only times he gets to see Junhui again and, troubled sleep or not, he will not give that up for the world.

The rest of the crew join them soon after and Wonwoo immediately puts all thoughts of Junhui and the dreams to the back of his mind. They gather at the bow of the ship, Mingyu taking his place beside Wonwoo as his second-in-command while Vernon drops down from the crow’s nest lithely in a stunt only he could pull off without breaking his neck. The rest of them gather before him in a messy kind of half circle, eyes trained on him as they wait for him to speak.

Wonwoo looks at them and feels a strange surge of pride seeing the boys he’s come to know over the last few years grow into the men before him. Grimy, disheveled, sea-crusted men but the men he would trust with his life all the same.

“You already know that there will be a raid today.” It isn’t a question but they nod anyway. “I know that it is supposed to be a regular raid of a supply ship but I want all of you to be on the highest of alerts. We have been stirring the nests of some particularly nasty hornets and they are not taking it very well.” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at him but he continues on. “The noble families we have been raiding have started to catch on and we have to be prepared that they might start arming their ships better.”

Seokmin frowns. “Arming their ships how? More men? Or more cannons?”

Wonwoo sighs internally but hardens his gaze. “We don’t know but I’d rather we not take any chances. Soonyoung, Seokmin I want you on the canons just in case. Cheol and Vernon, you’ll take the ship with me.” Mingyu shifts next to him and he turns to find Mingyu looking at him, frown set into his face. “Gyu, I need you on the wheel. You’re the best helmsman we have.”

Mingyu’s frown only deepens and he looks like he is about to argue but Wonwoo shoots him a look. _Later._ Mingyu’s mouth snaps shut but the displeasure doesn’t leave his face. Wonwoo turns back to the rest of his men.

“If we continue on the course we’ve plotted, we should come across the ship some time past noon. I want everyone on standby by then. Are we clear?” He gets nods from everyone. “Good. Now, go sharpen your knives and ready your ropes — But remember: I don’t want _anyone_ killing civilians. Not this time.”

There are murmurs of assent before they start to disperse; Seokmin and Soonyoung to the cannon deck, which also doubles as their weapons storage, Seungcheol follows them below deck to hoist the anchor, and Vernon returns to his position in the crow’s nest.

When everyone disappears, Wonwoo heads to the helm, followed closely by Mingyu, whose disapproval is so palpable that Wonwoo can feel it coming off him in waves. He stops in front of the wheel, settling an arm on it as he turns to Mingyu. “Stop. I already know what you’re going to say.”

“Then why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

“Because, you know I can’t make my men put themselves at risk while I remain on the ship. _Safe._ ” He spits out the last word like it is poison.

“So you choose to put yourself in harm’s way instead?” Mingyu takes a step closer, using his towering height to his advantage but Wonwoo doesn’t back down.

He places a placating hand on Mingyu’s chest. “I’ll be fine. I will have Seungcheol and Vernon with me anyway, and they’re easily the best at combat.”

Mingyu groans exasperatedly. “That doesn’t make a difference. You know you can’t-”

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo cuts him off, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Not here.”

Mingyu’s gaze shifts into a glare and Wonwoo feels it like a brand against his skin. Mingyu leans closer, hands fisting Wonwoo’s shirt until his lips are brushing against the shell of his ear. “Do not forget.”

Wonwoo recoils like he’d been slapped, brushing Mingyu off as he steps away from him, his gaze all ice where Mingyu’s had been fire. He crosses his arms, a silent end to their conversation. “As if I could,” he counters.

But Mingyu is already walking away.

»»————-————-««

They catch up to the supply ship just a bit past midday like Wonwoo had predicted. It is a large vessel, easily dwarfing their own ship, which is already small even for a pirate ship. While this one, is large and obnoxiously gilded for what is supposedly a cargo ship — definitely a vessel belonging to one of the larger noble families. It even has a figurehead carved into the bow — some strange creature that looks to be a half-woman mythical creature of some sort. Probably the goddess Amphitrite, although he doubts she will be pleased with this likeness.

They keep their ship just on the edge of cannon distance, following it closely from behind even though they know that there is no chance that their lookout hasn’t spotted them and their proud black flags already. Wonwoo, Seungcheol and Vernon get into the tiny lifeboat attached to the side of their ship. A very intentional misuse of the little boat, they know, but it allows them to get to the other ships generally undetected, especially when they’re as distracted by their main ship as this crew seems to be.

There is a smattering of both civilians and armed guards on this ship — almost an equal number of them judging by the outfits and that has Wonwoo tensing in his seat on the cold, hard bench of the rowboat. He knew the nobles were starting to arm their ships better but he wasn’t expecting to run into one so well-defended so soon. He chances a glance at Seungcheol and Vernon and he sees the same kind of apprehension in their eyes as they take in the situation.

They pull up beside the large ship, right by where the anchor is hanging just outside its porthole. They can already hear the commotion the appearance of their ship has caused — it is the cacophony of men shouting orders and men yelling in fear combined with the sound of feet thundering on the decks above them, some running and some walking. A perfect mixture of order and chaos.

They moor the boat to the anchor and Wonwoo turns to face them. “Remember, we don’t kill civilians. But if the guards shoot at you, don’t hold back. I will not have you risking your own lives for them. Take as much as you can carry of whatever they have.” He smiles. “As long as it isn’t too heavy for our little boat.”

That’s how it’s always been with them; they find a ship belonging to a noble and they rob it of whatever it has. Sometimes, if they’re lucky, it will be gold, or jewels, or something that can get them a fair bit of money. Other times, it can be anything from clothes to food to other kinds of luxury cargo they really have no use for. Although, it doesn’t really matter whether they have a use for the cargo because they give most of it to the poor of Areios — the land whose water they spend most of their time in, and whose nobles are, more often than not, the targets of their raids.

Seungcheol and Vernon nod at him, grins matching his before they start hauling themselves up the anchor chain with practiced ease. Wonwoo takes one last look around, checks above them to make sure none of the guards are smart (or stupid) enough to look over the rail, before he follows them up the anchor and into the porthole. Thankfully, the deck the anchor chain leads to seems to be a storage deck instead of the canon deck they were expecting, which means _no one knows they are here._

Seungcheol and Vernon are already looking around the deck, prying open the crates and barrels that line the walls to find out what exactly the ship is transporting. Seungcheol is just popping one of the crates open when there is a stampede of footfalls right above them. Wonwoo can just about make out some muffled voices too, ones much too calm for them to be any of the ship’s civilian crewmen.

He signals to Seungcheol to stop and points overhead before placing a finger on his lips. Vernon comes up beside Seungcheol from where he had been trying to get a barrel open and points towards the crate before mouthing _food._ He jerks his head over his shoulder and Wonwoo can just about make out an open crate in the dim gloom of the poorly lit storage deck. He frowns, he had been hoping for something more, what with the number of guards on this ship.

Seungcheol must be thinking the same thing because he looks at Wonwoo and points upstairs, to where the guards seem to have congregated judging by the number of feet sounds and hushed voices they can hear through the wooden floor.

Wonwoo closes his eyes, focusing on the sounds above them, trying to make out how many sets of feet he can hear, how many voices. This, _this_ , is Wonwoo’s specialty. If Seungcheol and Vernon are good fighters then Wonwoo is good with people. If they are civilians, Wonwoo can usually talk them out of being thrown overboard and fed to the fishes. And with large numbers, Wonwoo is usually pretty accurate when it comes to guessing how many there are.

He listens closely now, ignoring the dull thuds of their boots on the wood and focusing on the voices. Usually, soldiers will do what they are told by their commanding officer without hesitation but when there is fear and panic, people like to talk. That is what is happening now, a plethora of voices cresting over each other, each one trying to be heard. Wonwoo thinks there are about ten of them on the deck directly above them, which might not be too difficult for them to take but there is no way he can know if there are any other armed men in other parts of the ship.

Seungcheol and Vernon are watching him closely when he opens his eyes again, waiting. Wonwoo shakes his head and holds up both his hands. Vernon frowns but Seungcheol only nods albeit a bit reluctantly and Wonwoo can’t help but empathise. He had been hoping for bigger loot too, something they could sell for money to give to the inhabitants of the poorer seaside towns that dotted the coast of Areios. But there was no way that he would risk any of their lives on the off chance that there _might_ be something better upstairs. Not with odds like this anyway.

Shaking his head, he nods towards the rest of the crates and points at Seungcheol and then at the crowbar Seungcheol has been using to get it open. Seungcheol immediately gets to work opening the crates, revealing all sorts or produce from fresh, green heads of lettuce, to fruits rarely found in this area (these will probably get them a few gold pieces he suspects) to strips of dried herbs and mushrooms (which he assumes should also get them quite a fair amount of money as long as they find the right buyer). All in all, not a bad haul at all — as long as they can get a good amount of it back to their ship, of course.

He looks around as Vernon and Seungcheol get the crates and barrels open, trying to find something they can use to carry the produce down to the boat. He spots what looks like a handcrafted basket in the corner, small and much too useless for a ship such as this so it probably belongs to one of the crew. It looks like it can barely carry a couple heads of lettuce but it’s all they have so he grabs it and starts filling it with whatever he can.

They spend the next couple of minutes like that, switching roles every so often so that no one has to climb the anchor more than two or three times in a row. They keep an ear out too, for anything that sounds like it could be a guard leaving or someone coming down onto this deck. Occasionally, they can make out the sound of far-off cannon fire, probably Soonyoung and Seokmin firing warning shots to keep the crew here occupied.

It is only when they are done and back in the little rowboat, which is now considerably heavier and a lot closer to sinking into the sea that one of Soonyoung’s shots finally hits its mark. The cannon takes out the figurehead on the front of the ship, which while not dangerous enough to destroy the ship or hurt the people on it, is still sizable enough in terms of damage that it will make one nobleman incredibly pissed off. Wonwoo smiles at the thought, ignoring the way the shock of the impact seems to rattle him right into his bones.

He grabs one of the oars, shifting around so that none of the food is in the way, and starts rowing them back to their own ship. Seungcheol grabs the other and together they make it back within only a couple more cannon shots, none of which, by some miracle, reach their own ship.

It happens then.

They are about to moor themselves to their ship when a hand reaches up out of the water, its skin silvery and pale and all-too familiar. It grabs onto the boat and pulls the rest of itself up and out of the water, revealing a mop of dark blue-green hair and sapphire eyes that find Wonwoo’s in an instant and he swears it pierces straight into his soul.

His breath catches in his throat as they stare at each other, a moment that feels so strangely familiar, de javu accept is it still dejavu if it’s a moment that’s actually happened before? Because there is no way Wonwoo wouldn’t have recognised this face, grown as it is now into something even more beautiful and dangerous than the boy he’d met ten years ago. And yet, his eyes seem to pierce him with that same gentle brightness that he always seemed too soft for someone like him.

He is about to open his mouth, call out a name, because there is no way that it isn’t _him_. No way that he wouldn’t recognise Wonwoo. Right? But before Wonwoo can even think of the words, the siren speaks and there is something in his voice that simultaneously chills him and sets something within him alight.

“Please,” he says. Soft, musical, _desperate._ “You have to help us.”

»»————-————-««

Seungcheol has his blade at the siren’s throat within seconds, the tip of it pressing into the skin just shy of hard enough.

“Wait.” Wonwoo’s voice is clear and his tone is one that brooks absolutely no arguments. Seungcheol doesn’t remove his blade but he turns to Wonwoo, eyebrows raised.

“He’s a siren. We can’t let him speak any more than him already has or we will be the ones to die.”

Wonwoo shoots him a look that would have had any normal man backing down but it is a testament to Seungcheol’s strength and their friendship that he holds his ground. “He asked for help,” Wonwoo says firmly. He turns towards the siren who had been watching their interaction closely and who, to his surprise, hasn’t even tried to remove himself from the edge of Seungcheol’s blade. “Why?”

The siren opens his mouth to speak but Seungcheol presses his blade even closer. He draws blood this time but the siren holds his ground as well. His eyes meet Wonwoo’s, so open and so vulnerable despite the fact that one of them is holding a blade to his throat, and Wonwoo already knows what his decision is going to be.

“We’ll hear him out,” he declares.

“But-”

“No buts.” Wonwoo turns to Seungcheol, his expression schooled into one of sheer disapproval. “If he had wanted us dead, we would be dead by now. He hasn’t made a move to harm us and yet you have already drawn first blood.” Seungcheol winces, removing his blade from the siren’s throat. It leaves behind a line of red that has Wonwoo’s expression hardening further. “But, in order to ensure our own safety, the siren will be brought on board and placed in one of our holding cells. Only then will we let him speak?” He turns towards the siren. “Fair?”

The siren nods, eyeing Seungcheol and his blade warily one last time before backing away from the boat. Seungcheol accepts with a much more resigned nod as he returns to his seat beside Vernon.

The siren takes one last dive underwater, before he aims himself for the edge of the boat. Using his tail — a beautiful, grey-blue shark’s tail Wonwoo can’t help but notice — he shoots himself out of the water and over the edge of the boat. Wonwoo immediately moves to hook an arm under his arms, only to almost drop him back in the water when his tail starts to dissolve into some very _naked_ human legs.

Instead, he chooses to look away, ears burning, as Seungcheol grabs him by the other arm to haul him into their tiny, row boat. The boat dips further into the water with the added weight and Seungcheol curses, dropping the siren unceremoniously so that he can hook the boat up to the pulley system that will bring them up to the main deck.

When they are securely attached, Seungcheol gives the rope a tug and the boat starts to lift out of the water. The jerk of the boat as it leaves the water throws the siren further into his arms, and he lets out a panicked squawk at the sudden weight in his lap, all to aware about the siren’s state of undress. There is a snort from the front of the row boat and Wonwoo looks up to meet Vernon’s very amused eyes. He narrows his eyes, a very clear _don’t say a word_ , before he is reaching back down to right the siren who is clearly still very unsteady on his newfound feet.

He clears his throat. “Uh…” The siren’s head whips towards him, familiar sapphire eyes boring into his and the words fly right out of his mind. “Uh,” he repeats intelligently, while internally berating himself for the sudden disconnect between his brain and his mouth. He points towards the general direction of the siren’s legs as best as he can without actually looking. “You might want to, uh, do something about your…” He trails off, waving a hand around.

The siren only frowns and Wonwoo sighs. He points to his own pants before pointing back towards the siren’s legs. “Pants.”

The siren’s eyes widen in surprise, the tips of his ears tingeing a very pale, pale pink before he shuts them. Hard. His entire face contorts with effort and his fists clench at his sides, sweat already breaking on the siren’s brow and Wonwoo almost regrets mentioning pants. Especially if it means seeing the siren undergo so much strain. Whatever he does, though, must work because when the siren reopens his eyes he has a pair of pants on, exactly the same style as Wonwoo’s except in the same dark blue-grey his tail had been.

He looks at Wonwoo, head cocked, a silent question and Wonwoo can’t help but smile back.

From the front comes a shout, a warning from Seungcheol that they are almost to the top and for the rest of the crew to come help unload. Mingyu’s head pops over the side, eager, and he gives Wonwoo a smile before his eyes land on the siren, (or, well, now young man) who is still sort of sitting in Wonwoo’s lap, and his expression morphs into one of confusion.

“Get Soonyoung and Seokmin to ready one of the holding cells,” he says in lieu of a greeting. “We finally have a use for them.”

»»————-————-««

The cell they throw the siren is only clean by virtue of it never having been used before but it is still old, and damp, and musty. It is one of the cells built on the opposite end of the lower deck from the dining room. Close enough for a few scraps of food to have rolled into to rot, leaving it with a stench that is a horrible mixture of rotting fruit and salt water. Wonwoo would have gagged had he not been so used to the strange combination of smells commonly found on the ship.

Soonyoung and Seokmin deposit him roughly, shoving him into the cell with suspicious glares. He collapses to the floor, still unsteady on his new feet, and it takes everything in Wonwoo to not run in after him.

They close the door after themselves, and Wonwoo locks it. Just to be safe. Just so his men can feel safer. Mingyu comes up beside him and the rest of them spread out around the cell, as they wait for Wonwoo to give the signal.

A hand comes up to his back, warm and steady, and he turns to Mingyu who looks between him and the young man behind the cell bars before raising a brow. The absence of an answer is all the answer Mingyu needs and he gives Wonwoo’s waist a reassuring squeeze before he removes his hand and turns his attention to the siren.

Wonwoo looks at the siren, waits until he knows the siren is looking at him too before he starts. “Now, tell us from the beginning. _Why_ do you need our help? And if you so much as look like you’re going to sing, these two,” he jerks his head in the direction of Soonyoung and Seokmin who are standing by the side of the cell, revolvers cocked and loaded. Ready to go at a moment’s notice. “They will put a bullet in you before you can even finish your first note.”

The siren nods in understanding before opening his mouth. Every armed man around Wonwoo immediately pulls out a weapon, more than a little over eager, but none of them are going to be sleeping with the fishes tonight. Wonwoo will make sure of it. He takes a step closer to the cell.

“Now, who are you? And what’s happened that you have to ask us, _humans_ , for help? I never thought I’d see the day a mythical creature would come to humans for help.”

Something passes over the siren’s face then, a shadow, but not quite, and it is gone in an instant, his expression immediately schooled into something more neutral. He is careful before he speaks, though, taking a glance at the men with weapons before slowly he speaks.

“My name is Junhui.”

Wonwoo’s world immediately shatters into a million pieces. The sharp intake of breath isn’t noticeable to anyone except Mingyu, who is too attuned to him to _not_ notice. He takes a small step closer without looking at him, just enough to hide the fact that he’s taken Wonwoo’s hand. The touch steadies him, grounds him enough that he can focus once again on the siren who is still speaking. There is a question in the tightening of Mingyu’s hand in his and he returns it, once, in answer before returning his attention to Junhui.

Junhui whose voice still sounds exactly the same as it had when Wonwoo first heard it, except warmer now and just a bit deeper. Wonwoo knows that even if Junhui hadn’t told them who he was, he would have recognised him by his voice alone. Because no one else could speak warmth into Wonwoo’s veins the way he did, even now, as he begs them to help save him and the rest of his mythical brethren.

“Our Song has been stolen,” Junhui says, completely unaware of the turmoil going through Wonwoo’s mind. “It was taken from us and we need it back. But we can’t- We can’t get it back. He won’t let us.”

The desperation in his voice makes Wonwoo’s heart ache and he already wants to agree, wants to tell him that he will do whatever it takes. Because he will. He knows that without a doubt, even now, even after all these years. But it isn’t just him now, he has his crew to think about, and Junhui has always been who he is. A siren. And now, there is more at risk than just himself.

“What do you mean by your song?” Wonwoo asks instead, voice steady. “And who is this ‘he’?”

“Calypso.” Junhui’s voice shifts into something darker, a bit more menacing, and the hair on Wonwoo’s hands stand on end. “I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Witch of the Seas. He’s taken our Song, accepted it in a trade with the Muses who stole it from us.”

Wonwoo frowns because he has heard of the dark witch Calypso — a being so powerful he is often mistaken for one of the Gods and Goddesses. Not someone to be taken lightly, and definitely _not_ someone Wonwoo wants to face if he can help it. He releases Mingyu’s hand to cross his arms. “And why do you need us? Can’t you offer something in exchange?”

“You don’t understand!” Junhui takes a step forward only to fall to his knees again, his legs still not entirely a part of him, but all of Wonwoo’s men raise their weapons anyway. “The Song is life or death to us. It is the power by which we live, Calypso will not part with a treasure so easily. He has declared that he will only deal with humans for it. Please.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth but is interrupted by Vernon, who is speaking for the time since they’d dragged Junhui out of the water. “When you say song, do you mean the song you use to lure men to their death?”

Everyone freezes then, even Junhui, who gapes at him silently for a few seconds before he dips his head slightly. “Yes. But it is not the only thing we use it for, it—,”

“If that is how you kill us, why should we help you get it back? You will only use it on us the next time you see us and where will that leave us? Dead. At the bottom of the ocean.” It is Seungcheol who speaks this time and, as much as he hates it, Wonwoo has to agree that he has a point.

“No! Please!” Junhui is begging now, literally on his hands and knees, and Wonwoo almost can’t bear to look. “We don’t kill people with it, we—,”

“What?” Seungcheol takes a step closer to the bars of the cell, his revolver never leaving the spot on Junhui’s head it is currently aimed at. “You don’t? I can promise you every single one of us on this ship has lost someone to the sirens. So why should we help you get back the only thing that allows you to kill us?”

“Cheol,” Wonwoo warns and Seungcheol’s head snaps to him. Wonwoo doesn’t miss the way his fingers tighten around the revolver.

“What, Woo? Don’t tell me you’re thinking about helping them? Have you forgotten-”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Wonwoo snaps, and it is so out of character for him that Seungcheol actually lowers his revolver. He takes a breath, tries to calm his nerves, tries not to look at the forlorn figure on the floor of the cell. “I just think that, maybe, we could get something out of this?”

Seungcheol looks at him completely aghast. “Like what? They are the only things out there, in the water, that are actively hunting us. They _feed_ on us, Wonwoo. We are their prey _._ But without the song, they are nothing and we will be _safe!_ ”

Wonwoo casts a glance at Junhui, who has readjusted himself so that he is sitting, knees tucked into his chest, in the middle of the cell. Wonwoo can just make out the crescent marks he’s already left in the skin of his legs. “But what if- what if we can make them promise not to harm us?”

Beside him he hears Mingyu sigh as Seungcheol’s jaw drops even lower and it is only Vernon’s hand on his shoulder that stops him from taking a step towards Wonwoo.

“Wonwoo,” Mingyu says softly. “Are you listening to yourself? Are you listening to Cheol? They _feed_ on us. It is like us promising the fishes that we won’t fish them out of the water and eat them. It is inevitable. Even if it is not us, even if he can promise to not kill _us,_ there will always be someone else who will die in our stead.”

His words feel like a slap in the face, even more so because it is Mingyu and because he is right, and he makes sense. It is the only thing Wonwoo has always hated about him but it is also the reason Mingyu is his second-in-command. Wonwoo sighs, looking at Junhui only to find him already looking back, nothing but sadness and desperation in them. His heart stutters but he forces himself to look away.

“So, what do we do, then? We leave them to die?” He looks at the rest of his men as he says this, sees the answer in their eyes before they even open their mouths.

“It is them or us, Wonwoo,” Vernon says, soft and without any sort of malice. Just truth. Wonwoo feels like he’s standing on a precipice except, no matter where he steps, empty space will greet him and Wonwoo will have no choice but to fall regardless. But Wonwoo doesn’t want to take the step, still insists on looking for materials to build a bridge that will lead him to safety.

He looks at Junhui and sees his emotions mirrored on Junhui’s face. What can he say? That he’s sorry? That Junhui will have to find someone else? That everyone who has ever set foot on a ship carries the same ill will towards Sirens? All of these thoughts are swirling around in his head when Junhui decides to break the silence.

He doesn’t move, keeps his arms wrapped around his legs as he looks up at them. “Can I-” Everyone’s head turns to him and he falters. “Can I please just say this one thing, and if your answer is still the same then I promise I will leave you alone?”

Seungcheol swivels towards Junhui, gun raised once more. “What could you possibly-”

“Seungcheol.” Wonwoo’s voice is sharp, like the snapping of a whip, and Seungcheol falls silent but not without a glare directed at Wonwoo. “Let him speak. What harm can he do, now, anyway? He doesn’t have the Song. He can’t hurt us.”

“Fine.”

Wonwoo nods at Junhui who gives him a small smile in gratitude. “Go ahead.”

Junhui shifts slightly so that he is facing Seungcheol more than he is facing Wonwoo. “We do not _feed_ on humans, not in the way that you think we do. It is not the flesh of humans that sustains us, that is vile, we are not monsters. We feed on your _lust._ As often as we can, we try not to drown the human but things happen sometimes.” He pauses. “In the heat of things.”

Seungcheol’s expression of disbelief seems to be permanently etched onto his face while Seokmin’s, Soonyoung’s and Vernon’s are completely new. They stare at Junhui in shock like he’d just told them the gods and goddesses weren’t real. Wonwoo, on the other hand feels heat rush to his ears as images of their days on the beach come back to him, the stirring in his chest, the way he’d always felt drawn to Junhui. How he had always pressed fingers to skin, to scale and, eventually, to lips. But there is also something dark there, within his warm sunlit thoughts, something waiting to be drawn out and quartered, analysed. But Wonwoo doesn’t want to go anywhere near it, not even with a ten foot pole.

“Lust?” Wonwoo says, quietly and yet it lingers in the air like a shroud.

“Yes,” Junhui answers, just as quiet, not looking at him. “Why do you think you humans are always so drawn to us when we sing? What do you think it is that we call out of them with the song? The things that they feel are not created by us, they are already within, just waiting to be drawn out.” Junhui turns to him then. “Why do you think it is always sailors who give in? Men who have been out on the waters for months without feeling another’s touch? It is their eagerness that causes them their death.”

Seungcheol scowls. “So you’re blaming human deaths on us now?”

Junhui shakes his head. “Not at all, but we do not kill for pleasure. It makes no sense for us to. If you die, we can’t feed.”

“So what are you trying to say?” Wonwoo asks. He is tired, everything that’s happened that day weighs on him and he suddenly wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with a book. “Are you saying that you _can_ promise not to kill us, if we help you get you your song back?”

“Yes. Your ship especially but I can bring up the idea of better feeding practices with our Council Elders. I promise we won’t kill humans anymore, not if we can help it.”

Wonwoo looks between Junhui’s pleading eyes and the suspicion in the eyes of his men, and finds that he can’t make a decision. Doesn’t want to. It is too much for him because how can he put the lives of his friends and crew against the life of the first being he has ever fallen in love with? Might still be in love with? He doesn’t think he can make that decision, especially not right now. Not after finally finding Junhui after spending the better part of the last ten years looking for him.

So he doesn’t. “Let me think about it.”

Seungcheol nearly drops his gun. Soonyoung actually drops his gun. Both Vernon and Seokmin are staring at him with identical wide-eyed expressions.

Seungcheol turns to him fully and Wonwoo can see the anger there, the frustration, the sheer _disbelief._ “What do you mean you can’t make a decision? You can’t actually be serious about trusting him?”

Wonwoo places a hand on his shoulder. “It means that I can’t make a decision, Cheol. Because what if he’s telling the truth? What if we choose not to help them and they _die_ and we become responsible for the extinction of a race of creatures as old as the gods themselves?” _What if he dies? What if I lose him again?_ Those what-ifs he keeps unsaid, tucked into a little section of his heart for him to pick and pry at when he’s alone.

Seungcheol shrugs him off. “That will not happen. Because, we did not steal the Song from them. It will never be our fault.”

Wonwoo looks at him then, hard, his eyes searching Seungcheol’s own. “And you’re telling me that, when all is said and done, when the Sirens die out, that you’ll be able to live with that?”

“I-,” Seungcheol gapes before glaring at Wonwoo. “You can’t say that.”

Wonwoo claps him on the shoulder again and offers him a thin smile. “And that’s why I said I need to think about it, okay? Sleep on it. We’ll talk about it more tomorrow morning. As for Jun, uh, Junhui, we’ll release you back to the sea because I can’t imagine you’re comfortable in that form. But will you come back tomorrow? I promise we’ll give you an answer then.”

Junhui looks between Wonwoo and a still seething Seungcheol before he nods. “Okay.”

“Good. Now that’s settled, I want the rest of you to get some rest. Help yourself to some of the fresh food and water too.”

When his men have left, not without a few muffled grumbles and curses — he even hears the occasional speculation that maybe Wonwoo is bewitched, that the Siren is lying and already has Wonwoo wrapped around his thumb (that, especially, does not sit well with Wonwoo who feels it settle in the back of his throat like bile that no amount of swallowing will ever get rid of) — Wonwoo turns to unlock the cell.

Junhui struggles to push himself up, his legs having grown even more stiff after the last couple of hours on the cold, damp floor of the ship’s bowels, and Wonwoo reaches for him without thinking. Suddenly, he is brought back to the beach, to the summer they spent doing nothing but lazing around in the shallows, arms around each other. He feels the same, fits the same, like they’d grown side by side to fit into the spaces of their bodies perfectly. It is the first thing he realises and it only makes the ache in Wonwoo’s chest grow.

He readjusts them so that he has Junhui’s arm slung over his shoulders and his arm around Junhui’s waist where he finds the skin still cool to the touch. Mingyu is still there, because he always is, and he comes around to Junhui’s other side to mirror Wonwoo. Wonwoo shoots him a grateful smile, or tries to, but Mingyu isn’t looking at him so he sighs and looks away too.

When they reach the main deck, they offer to lower Junhui in the rowboat but he declines with a respectful shake of his head before he dives right off the side of the ship into the darkening waters. His head pops up once, as he turns to give them a wave before he is disappearing into the depths with nothing more than a swish of his blue-grey tail.

The minute he disappears Mingyu turns to him but Wonwoo holds up his hand. “Please,” he says. “Not here. And not now. _Please._ ” The last word comes out too close to a plea for Wonwoo’s comfort but he doesn’t care. He feels like he has been hit in the chest with the hilt of a sword and then dumped overboard into stormy waters. There’s nothing and too much around him, and he suddenly no longer knows which way is up.

Mingyu has him before he can stumble, rights him, helps him return to the surface and also the safety of their shared bedroom before he does something even more ridiculous, like faint in front of his men. Mingyu guides him gently to their bed, despite the fact that Wonwoo knows Mingyu is still upset with him, if not still from earlier this morning then definitely from whatever’s just happened.

Wonwoo collapses onto the bed, disregarding the fact that he is covered in salt spray and gunpowder from their raid earlier. Mingyu brings him a tin cup full of fresh water and wet rag, which he places on the barrel bolted into the ground they use in lieu of what would be bedside tables. Wonwoo takes a sip of the water and ignores the rag, just letting the sounds of the sea lapping against the side of the ship and Mingyu washing up wash over him.

It is only when the bed dips beside him that Wonwoo is brought out of his mind. He turns to look at Mingyu, who has already washed up and is holding out a roll of bread to him. Strange, he never noticed Mingyu leaving their room. He doesn’t say anything, though, just sits beside him wordlessly until Wonwoo accepts the bread roll and brings it to his lips.

The bread is warm, somehow, and Wonwoo feels the heat spread from his lips to his chest and it almost feels like he is being reborn. It snaps him out of whatever strange daze has come over him and he bites into it completely, almost sagging with relief at the taste. He looks over at Mingyu, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him the whole time, and gives him a weak smile.

“Thank you,” he says, reaching over to give Mingyu’s hand a squeeze, which only earns him a frustrated huff. He turns so that he is sitting cross-legged on the bed, fully facing Mingyu now. “I know you have a lot of things to say, and I know I upset you a lot today. I’m sorry.”

Mingyu, ever magnanimous and weak for Wonwoo’s sad eyes, caves almost immediately. He deflates like the wind has been knocked out of him and glares at Wonwoo. “You.” He pauses, runs a hand through his hair with a frustrated groan before continuing. “You are going to be the death of me. First, the fucking raid.” Wonwoo flinches at the expletive, not a sound he is used to hearing from Mingyu’s mouth especially. “You know. You _know_ why you can’t put yourself in danger like that, and to not take me with you?”

Wonwoo frowns around the roll he is taking another bite out of. “I can look after myself. Or have you forgotten who used to beat you during sword fighting drills?”

Mingyu glares at him again, fully this time, and Wonwoo’s mouth snaps shut. “That is not the point and you know it, Wonwoo. There is no way I can ever return home if you are not by my side. I, on the other hand, am inconsequential. Things will still be okay if you return home without me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Wonwoo grumbles. “I wouldn’t be okay.”

Mingyu sighs. “You know what I mean, Woo. I will never be forgiven for returning home without you.”

“We don’t have to go home.”

“Stop that,” Mingyu snaps. “You know it will happen eventually. Maybe soon, especially now that you’ve found him.” Wonwoo’s head snaps up at that and Mingyu raises an eyebrow in retaliation. “Am I wrong? That’s him, isn’t it? The siren you met that summer.” Mingyu’s voice softens towards the end, gentle, almost like he’s afraid that his words will hurt. Wonwoo looks at him, searching, afraid of what he might find in Mingyu’s eyes but he finds only stability and a quiet kind of understanding.

“Yes,” he breathes, and it feels like a weight lifted off his chest. “Yes, it’s him. Mingyu I-”

He is interrupted by Mingyu pulling him towards him until Wonwoo ends up curled against his chest. It takes him by surprise but the action itself is not something new, Mingyu being someone who prefers communicating through touch instead of words sometimes. So he wraps his arms around Mingyu’s waist and burrows into the crook of Mingyu’s neck, a familiar position for the both of them. They stay like that for a while, quiet, taking comfort in each other’s presence as they try to get their thoughts and feelings into order.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo mumbles into the skin of Mingyu’s neck later, when they’ve finally settled.

Mingyu hums, and Wonwoo can feel it against his chest. “Why?”

“Because I- I can’t… We’re supposed to get married, Gyu.”

“And?” There is amusement in his tone and Wonwoo pulls away to look up at him, only to find Mingyu already watching him, a small smile on his face. “We already knew going into this that we weren’t in love, Wonwoo. And that we probably would never be.”

Wonwoo breathes out a heavy sigh before tucking himself right back into his place against Mingyu’s chest. “I know. I just… Sometimes I think about loving you like that, because you deserve it, because if not me then, who? But-”

“But you can’t,” Mingyu finishes.

“Yeah.” Wonwoo tightens his grip around Mingyu’s waist and presses his lips lightly to the line of his collar bone. “I do love you though.”

Mingyu returns it with a press of his lips against Wonwoo’s forehead. “I know. And I love you too.”

“Just not like that.”

Mingyu sighs, fingers starting to card through Wonwoo’s hair, a comforting gesture that has Wonwoo’s eyes slipping shut almost immediately. “Yeah. Not like that.” There is a pause, and Wonwoo nearly falls asleep, before Mingyu speaks again and it is so soft that Wonwoo almost misses it. “Do you love him though? In that way?”

The ache in his chest returns and he clutches at Mingyu tighter. “I did, once. And a lot of that never really went away. But he isn’t the boy I knew back then.”

They are quiet for a while, Mingyu processing the information, words that Wonwoo’s barely admitted to himself let alone to someone else. “Do you think you could love him again?”

Wonwoo thinks about it, properly, about the way he’d been drawn to Junhui the minute he’d appeared over the side of their rowboat, how his heart had recognised him faster than his brain had. He thinks about the sapphire-blue eyes, hair the same colour as the ocean, and a voice that was at once soft and melodious but also carrying an edge so sharp it had frightened Wonwoo once. He thinks about the way he had felt earlier, the way he had felt against him, body to body filling in the empty spaces between each other so perfectly it shouldn’t have been possible, at least not after all this time.

“Yes,” he says. “I think I could.”

»»————-————-««

> _Dearest Wonwoo,_
> 
> _I miss you. Your letters are getting infrequent again so I assume you are off doing dangerous things as only pirates can do and I know you tell me not to worry, but you know I will. I think the last ship you raided came from Nobleman Choi because I overheard him at a private parlour with mother and father and he was absolutely fuming. I think there might be a chance that they will be increasing the number of guards on future trips, so be careful._
> 
> _My studies have been okay, although I can’t believe you’re even asking about my studies while you’re out there getting yourself into trouble. If mother and father knew, actually, I don’t want to think about it and I hope they never find out. Seungkwan has been driving me up the wall these days, insisting I take up governance studies and politics in case you don’t return so please say you’ll come back but he has been cutting me some slack in some of my other areas so I guess I can’t complain._
> 
> _Seungkwan misses you too by the way. He will never admit it, says it is most unbecoming of your future advisor but I know he does. I see him go into your rooms sometimes, same as I do even though he’ll never talk about it. I wish he would just talk to me though, a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved and all that but you know how stubborn he is._
> 
> _Oh, I have to go now. Father has requested an audience with me today, I don’t know why, it was so out of the blue, but I have to get ready. We all know I will get flogged if I show up in anything unsuitable. Be safe wherever you are and come back soon!_
> 
> _Love you always,  
>  Chan_

»»————-————-««

They awake the next day to a crew that is no better state emotionally than the previous one. Seungcheol is still very openly upset at them, shooting a combination of daggers and sad eyes at Wonwoo from across the dining area. Soonyoung is very much the same, although he is a lot less angry about it and just all around more confused than anything. He does greet Wonwoo with a frown, though, and Wonwoo definitely doesn’t take that as a good sign.

Seokmin and Vernon are a bit more contemplative, the only sign that their thoughts are weighing on them more than normal is how quiet Seokmin is. He barely glances at Wonwoo as he walks past him with Mingyu on their way to breakfast, and that tells him all he needs to know.

It isn’t easy, waking up and knowing that your crew and friends are upset with you, especially knowing that you are going to make a decision that is going to upset them further. Because Wonwoo already knew what he was going to do the minute Junhui had confirmed that the Sirens could stop killing humans. It was no question, really. And he is sure Mingyu knew as well then, even more so after their conversation last night.

Mingyu, himself, remains silent the whole morning despite never leaving Wonwoo’s side and only helping himself to the smallest portion of stale bread and dried fruit he’s ever seen Mingyu eat in the entirety of his life. The only constant is the sound of the waves as they break against the side of the ship, and the steady rocking motion of the vessel. Even then, it already feels like a storm is on the horizon.

Sighing internally, he finishes the last bite of his breakfast before standing and grabbing the attention of the rest of his crew. They all watch as he takes his place in the middle of the deck, Mingyu rising a beat behind him to stand at his side — a pillar for him to lean on should he need it.

He clears his throat, pointedly avoiding Seungcheol’s gaze who is looking at Wonwoo like he knows what he is going to say and is ready, retort nocked onto this tongue ready to fire the minute Wonwoo so much as utter the word ‘siren’.

“I know you already know that I’ve made a decision,” he begins, earning him a frown from Soonyoung and a disapproving look from Seungcheol, who crosses his arms and leans against the table, eyes never leaving Wonwoo. “But before I say it, I want to know your opinions, because I will _not_ make a decision without hearing what you all have to say. You know that is not how I run this ship.” Seungcheol lets out a loud huff and Mingyu shifts beside him, restless. “Cheol, just say what you need to.”

Seungcheol scowls, sitting up from where he’d been resting against the table. “Like I know what your decision is, I’m sure you know where I stand on this.”

Wonwoo sighs and he brings a hand up to alleviate the pressure he can already feel building behind his brows. “I do. But what I want to know is why. Why are you so against it, even after knowing that the Sirens can stop killing people?”

Seungcheol stands, circling around the table to lean against its edge. “Why? Because it isn’t our problem. This is _their_ magic, stolen by the Muses no less, another group of creatures we have no right entangling ourselves with. The journey to Calypso’s domain is said to be fraught with nothing but danger after danger, and you want to put us through that? For _them_? No.” He shakes his head and levels Wonwoo a look. “What I want to know is why you seem so eager to help them? At our expense! I know you, Woo.” Wonwoo almost flinches at the sound of his nickname on Seungcheol’s tongue. “You wouldn’t do anything to put us in danger. So, why? Who are they to you? Or, maybe, who is _he?_ ”

Seungcheol’s words hit him like a whip and he nearly staggers, nearly backs down because Seungcheol does have a point. He has many points in fact, and he could see the way they registered in the eyes of the rest of his crew. Once again, Wonwoo is struck with the sheer certainty that Seungcheol would have, in almost every sense, made a better captain than him. But he is _not_ the Captain, and Wonwoo holds onto that with every fibre of his being.

“You’re right. If I were to be logical, there would be no point in us risking our lives to help them, a group of sea creatures who, for as long as we’ve known of them, have preyed on humans and killed many of us. But, what if this was our chance at reconciliation? Between humans and sirens. You know that everything happens for a reason — gods choose heroes all the time — what if Jun- the Siren came to us for a reason? You know better than anyone to question the Fates.”

Surprisingly, it is not Seungcheol that answers, but Vernon who is looking between Seungcheol and Wonwoo with a frown. “Destiny and Fate aside, what makes you think that, if we can survive the journey, we will be able to broker some kind of truce between humans and sirens? We are pirates, not nobility. We are nobody. No one is going to listen to us.”

Beside him, Mingyu stiffens and Wonwoo tries not to think about the locked drawer in his desk and its contents. Instead, he continues. “That is a problem for the us of the future to deal with. Like you said, we have to survive the journey to Calypso first.”

“And why should we even attempt the journey if it is so dangerous?” It is Soonyoung who speaks this time, sharp gaze cutting right through Wonwoo. “Seungcheol is right. Nothing about this benefits us. Letting the sirens die assures us our safety just as much, if not more, than helping the sirens will.”

Wonwoo wants to rip his hair out. He’d known that the crew would be mostly against it but he didn’t think he would be so violently opposed. At this point, he doesn’t know how much more he can take before he has to give in. Seokmin and Vernon haven’t said anything but Wonwoo already knows that they stand with the rest of the crew.

He has exhausted everything he can say, though, short of revealing his feelings for Jun, feelings that even he, himself, is unsure of. Not to mention that they really will think him bewitched, and that could lose him the Captaincy of this ship _and_ secure Junhui’s very swift demise the next time he shows his face.

The sound of Mingyu speaking brings him back to the present. “I think that, maybe, Wonwoo has a point.” Wonwoo shoots him a surprised look that he quickly schools into a neutral one. “I don’t think we can ignore the fact that we were, in some way, _called_ to do this task and I don’t think I want to know what turning it down will mean for us.” Seungcheol opens his mouth, ready to argue but Mingyu cuts him off. “Besides, they say that those who survive the journey to Calypso can be granted anything they desire. Plus, I am sure there will be some other reward for returning the sirens their Song, _and_ they will forever be indebted to us. Power over the sirens, do you not think that better than just letting them slowly die out?”

Wonwoo can’t help the relief that floods through him at Mingyu’s words. This is why his parents had chosen Mingyu to be his betrothed amongst so many others because he was everything that Wonwoo wasn’t. They were, for all intents and purposes, the perfect match. The memory of their conversation from the night before flashes through his mind and he can’t help the twinge of regret that he feels in his chest.

Wonwoo watches as the expression on his men’’s faces change and he knows that Mingyu has them, if not at _deepest desires_ then definitely at the idea of them having power over the sirens forever. Even Seungcheol looks somewhat conflicted now. God, Wonwoo could kiss Mingyu.

He decides that now would be the best time to step in, to reinforce Mingyu’s words with something of his own. “If we do take up this task, I will promise you this: if we die before we reach Calypso then I curse myself to forever wander the Fields of Mourning in exchange for your entrance into Elysium.” Seungcheol’s eyes widen and Soonyoung and Seokmin both have their jaws on the floor. Even Mingyu sucks in a breath beside him before turning to him and taking his hand, something he never does in front of the rest of the crew.

“Are you sure?” There is nothing but worry and concern in his eyes and Wonwoo is filled with nothing but guilt for having dragged Mingyu with him to the open ocean.

He gives Mingyu’s hand a squeeze before removing his own. “Yes,” he says softly, just loud enough for Mingyu before he turns back to the rest of them. “I swear on the Fates that I will be held responsible for your lives should you lose them before we reach Calypso. I don’t think I will be able to ask this of you otherwise.”

Seungcheol’s expression has returned to his fairly disapproving one from before but he takes a step towards Wonwoo anyway. He looks between Wonwoo and Mingyu, once, before he says quietly. “I know you haven’t told us everything, Woo, but if this is important enough for you to swear on your own eternity, then I think we should go.” He pauses and his gazes searches Wonwoo once, reminding Wonwoo that Seungcheol is not just a crewmate but a friend, someone who cares about him. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Wonwoo sighs, giving Seungcheol’s arm a squeeze. “I hope so too.”

The rest of the crew parrot Seungcheol’s sentiments, except Soonyoung, who does nothing but give Wonwoo a hug, which, really, says everything. He pulls away to study Wonwoo the same way Seungcheol had, brows knitting together into a frown as though he’s trying to see into Wonwoo’s mind. “You promise you’ll tell us eventually?”

Seeing Soonyoung like that, expression worried and just that little bit betrayed, Wonwoo caves. “I will. When I can, I will tell you everything.”

Soonyoung smiles and it comes out slightly sad. “I’ll hold you to that.”

»»————-————-««

The conversation with Junhui goes a lot smoother.

Wonwoo lowers himself down to sea level in the rowboat come noon, and there he waits for Junhui to show up, which he does. He arrives just a bit late and startling the life out of Wonwoo when he propels himself out of the water and onto the side of the boat, dripping water all over the nicely dried insides.

Wonwoo takes the time now to really look at him, now that he isn’t under the gaze of the rest of his crewmates. He takes in the slim figure that Junhui had already sported back when they were sixteen, now grown broader and a lot more fleshed out than the scrawny things they had both been at that age. His hair is a deeper shade of blue-green now and so are his eyes, having become a much deeper midnight blue. He is definitely bigger, looks stronger too, but he is just as beautiful as that day on the beach when Wonwoo had seen him for the first time. Wonwoo is sure that if Junhui hadn’t startled the breath out of him then his beauty would have taken it away anyway.

Wonwoo watches as Junhui gets comfortable, shifting into his legs (with shorts on this time) with a wince as he stretches out the unfamiliar limbs. “Does it hurt?” he asks. The words somehow finding their way out of his mouth and Junhui’s head snaps up to look at him. “The shifting.”

Junhui looks down at his legs and then back Wonwoo. “Oh, you mean the legs? No, it just feels weird. And without the Song it takes a lot more effort for us to shift into our more human forms.”

“So, with the Song, you can shift into human form whenever you want?”

Junhui frowns, plucking at the hem of his shorts. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh. Then why-” _Why did you never do it?_ Wonwoo shakes his head. He could never ask that question, especially not now when he’s not sure if Junhui even recognises him. “Nevermind. We’ve made a decision, by the way.”

Junhui pauses, fingers still playing with his shorts but his eyes are wide when he looks at Wonwoo. His fingers clutch tighter at the shorts. “And? You’re not going to help us are you?”

“Actually,” Wonwoo says, holding Junhui’s gaze. “We are.”

Junhui’s jaw drops and he releases the part of the shorts he’d been playing with. “You are?! How did you-” He stops. Restarts. Shakes his head. Starts again. “I thought your men would have said no. And you don’t- you don’t seem like the type to force your opinion on them.”

Wonwoo smiles and he knows that it is tinged sad and bitter. “Yeah. I’m not. But I managed to convince them anyway.”

Junhui frowns, scooting forward on the bench he is seated on looking very much the siren who had appeared before Wonwoo a decade ago, shy and curious about everything. “How?”

“Just…” He waves a hand. “I had a very convincing argument. But, we do have a condition.”

“Yes?”

Wonwoo sighs, glancing above him once to make sure no one was listening in even though he had already given Mingyu explicit orders to keep the men away from the row boat lines. “When everything is over, and you have your Song back, the sirens will have to agree to a peace treaty with the humans.”

Junhui looks at him then, really looks at him, eyes narrowing as he takes Wonwoo in. “And are you going to speak on behalf of the humans?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Just… Just agree to it. Agree that you will meet with a representative of the humans to discuss the terms of a peace agreement and until such an agreement has been decided, no siren shall harm or kill any human. Those are our terms.”

Junhui gives him one more long look, one that he feels strips him down to the bone before he nods. “We accept.”

»»————-————-««

Following their agreement, they are introduced to two other Sirens. One, Joshua, Junhui introduces as a close friend and a member of the Council. He is even more ethereal than Junhui, something that Wonwoo never would have thought possible, but he is. His hair is dark, stormy grey and his eyes a bright silver that never seems to stop sparkling, and when he introduces himself in a voice that is so much softer than Junhui’s, and so gentle, he understands exactly why Junhui wanted him to accompany them.

The experience in his eyes isn’t lost on Wonwoo and he can’t help but wonder just how much older Joshua is. Although, seeing as he knows next to nothing about the lifespans of sirens, it would do absolutely nothing for him to try and guess.

The other siren is the complete antithesis to Joshua. Where Joshua had been gentle, but firm, and light like the way the sea is in the mornings following a storm, this one is the storm itself. He is all sharp edges and keen gazes, hair an almost stark black with eyes that match. They glitter like onyxes as they take Wonwoo in, and he feels even more exposed than he did when Junhui had done it. Minghao. Everything about him screams danger and Wonwoo wouldn’t be surprised to find out he was responsible for the more terrifying tales.

There is also something about him, the way he always places himself in relation to Junhui, just a fraction of an inch in front of Junhui, arms ready to catch Junhui every time he struggles with his legs, eyes always watching them. Wonwoo doesn’t doubt that if anyone tried to harm Junhui, they would have their knife in their own throat by Minghao’s hand faster than they can breathe. Wonwoo isn’t afraid to admit that he is terrified of him and chooses to give him a wide berth despite how it will look to his men.

With the three of them introduced to the rest of the crew, whose reactions span the entire spectrum between afraid and very blatant interest, the sirens set out to tell them just what the journey will require of them. You see, the journey to Calypso, much like the sirens and their magic, is a myth. No man has made the journey and survived, so much of it is passed down through stories and heresy. No one on the ship knows the exact way to Calypso, but the sirens do. This lies within their domain after all.

It is the first concern brought up during their first meeting with the three Sirens, all nine of them having gathered in the dining hall the following night. They are seated at the singular long table with the sirens on one end and the crew on the other — not a great start but Wonwoo is just pleased that he’d managed to convince them to sit down with the sirens. Food and drink litter the table, remnants of the crew’s dinner, which the sirens refuse to touch.

“We don’t eat the way you humans do, or have you already forgotten?” This comes from Minghao, who is eyeing the half-cleared dishes with something just hovering between curiosity and disgust. Soonyoung, who had been trying to offer him a roll, flushes and sits himself back down with a small _oh_. There is a sparkle of something in Minghao’s eyes, though, that has Wonwoo groaning inwardly.

He clears his throat to get everyone’s attention and they all turn to him, eight pairs of eyes on him in an instant. “We are not here for a party, so let’s stick to the matter at hand. We,” he gestures to himself and the crew. “Don’t know anything about how to get to Calypso’s domain, or even where to start. But I am assuming that you do?”

He aims this question at Junhui but it is Joshua who answers, voice as calm as the sea beyond the walls of the ship. It soothes him, somehow, and he can’t help but wonder if that is another product of a siren’s power. “We do.” He pauses, looks at Junhui who nods and gestures for him to continue. “The journey itself, for you, will consist of three parts — you will first have to make it past the Titan’s Wrath. It is as dangerous as it sounds but it is said to be the easiest part of the journey.” On his left he feels Seungcheol stiffen slightly, and he prays to the gods that they make it out of this first meeting with no casualties.

“Once you make it past Titan’s Wrath,” Joshua continues. “You will get to Poseidon’s Hall. This will be the most difficult and there will be no way for you to prepare yourselves for it. I cannot tell you of it because, as sirens, the journey is different for us. Once we get past that, it is a straight stretch to something the sirens call the Ocean’s Graveyard. We have no other word for it in your language but it is the final gate to Calypso.”

There is silence as everyone takes in Joshua’s words. The air is still around them, the reality of it all, of what they’ve agreed to weighs heavily on all of them. Wonwoo can see it on their faces, the fear, the uncertainty, and part of him wonders if he’s made the right choice.

It is Seungcheol that breaks the silence. “All these… Gates. These places. There is a chance that we could die at every one of them?” Seungcheol’s tone is grave but Wonwoo can hear the undercurrent of fear in it and he wishes that he can take Seungcheol’s hand but he knows he’s lost the right to comfort any of them.

Joshua nods. “I will not lie to you. They are perilous even to us and we are familiar with those waters. But,” he pauses to look Seungcheol in the eye, strong and unwavering. “We promise that we will do everything within our power to keep you safe. The first gate, the Titan’s wrath, it is the gateway into our realm — the realm of gods and all things inhuman. The sea alone will be treacherous, more so than during any human storm. But the real dangers lie underwater, traps — sinkholes and rocks and all other kinds of dangers meant to prevent ships from passing through. We will guide you through it, but you have to trust us.” He looks at Seungcheol as he says this, who says nothing but he doesn’t break his gaze.

Joshua raises an eyebrow, an unspoken question and a challenge, and Seungcheol relinquishes. The hands previously balled into fists relaxes and he nods, looking down. An agreement. Joshua smiles, pretty, before he, too, settles.

Junhui looks to Wonwoo then, a passing of the baton, and Wonwoo stands, already tired despite having done nothing but listen to Joshua’s heavy words. But he grits his teeth, because this part is the most important. “Thank you, for telling us and for offering to guide us,” he says to Joshua before turning to address the rest of his men. “I know that what we are about to do is dangerous and I’m grateful that you’ve chosen to trust me. But I want you to know that I will not force you to do this. If any of you decide that you no longer want to be a part of this, tell me, and we will drop you off at the closest port before we set sail for…” he pauses, trying to recall what Joshua’s just told them. “Titan’s Wrath. I will not think any less of you, and, should we survive, you are more than welcome to rejoin us.”

This is it. His last offering, their last chance to back out. As long as he has just one more person, he should be able to make the journey — there is no need for the rest of them to sacrifice their lives. But no one moves. No one makes a sound. All of them remain resolute as they look back at Wonwoo and he sees it now, the determination blazing in their eyes alongside the fear. It is Seungcheol again who looks up at him, half smile on his lips.

“You are our Captain. But besides that, you are also our friend. We will not leave you to make this journey alone. Besides,” and his smile widens then into something sharper, mischievous, something that resembles the Seungcheol he knows. “If we die, we go to Elysium. We wouldn’t have a chance at that if we died under any circumstances, so why not?”

»»————-————-««

> _My Dearest Chan,_
> 
> _I miss you too. Every single day. If there was one thing I regret the most about leaving, it was leaving you behind. But I am glad you are doing well, listen to Seungkwan when it comes to your studies, I know governance is a pain but it is important. Listen to father even more, though, I don’t want you to get beaten. Ever._
> 
> _Please tell Seungkwan that I miss him too and that he is free to use my rooms as he wishes, within reason of course. He did enjoy the view from them back when we were younger. If I’m being honest, I miss you all so, so much, and even more every day but I just need a little more time. I think a part of me is too afraid to face our parents, or too afraid of them. I will come back eventually, this is a promise to you, but I will need just a bit more time._
> 
> _Also, I am writing this letter to tell you that we are about to embark on a journey that is so much more dangerous than anything we have done and it would be a lie to say that I am not terrified. We’re helping some friends recover something really important to them but, at the same time, I can’t help but feel like maybe it isn’t our battle, that maybe I might be putting all of our lives at risk for nothing. You see, this is why I cannot go back. How can I go back to lead thousands when I can barely lead ten? I do wish you were here sometimes._
> 
> _Anyway, if anything happens to me, know that I love you and that I will always be sorry for leaving and for not making it back. But, I will do whatever it takes to come back, so try not to worry too much. Mingyu sends his love too and claims he misses you more than I do (that is a lie and can never happen). Until we see each other again._
> 
> _Love you more,  
>  Wonwoo_

»»————-————-««

The journey to Titans Wrath takes a few days. They stop at a port along the way to restock, despite having more than enough from their raid. What they don’t know is that Wonwoo also stocks up on medicine, tonics, and other emergency supplies they might need because someone was bound to get hurt at some point. He keeps those in his room, though, out of sight so as not to worry the rest of the crew.

So far, the way is full of smooth-sailing, clear skies and calm waters are all they experience. The sirens act as their guides, one on the ship and the other two in the water because they seem to be able to communicate with each other like that. Wonwoo spends most of his time on the wheel, not because he doesn’t think his men will ignore the guidance of the siren assigned to the boat but because being like this, hand on the wheel, the sun on his back and the sea spray in his face, this is where he feels the most calm. Especially on the days, like today, where it is Junhui’s turn to be onboard the ship.

Junhui always chooses to stay by his side at the wheel, despite the fact that Mingyu is always there too. They’ve exchanged a few words, the two of them, Junhui’s eager (always so eager) and Mingyu’s careful, calculated, like he is afraid that he will let slip that he knows who Junhui is too. That Wonwoo knows him. Most of the time, though, they remain quiet and it is nice.

Today, Junhui is a bundle of nervous energy. He’s spent the better part of the morning pacing up and down the deck behind Wonwoo, occasionally giving him directions when he needs to. He also seems a bit duller, like the light that Wonwoo had seen in him, even on that first day, is being slowly extinguished. There are shadows on his face where there never once used to be, and Wonwoo would be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little bit worried about him.

Wonwoo glances around, makes sure that Mingyu is still down on the main deck with Seokmin — he’d chosen to work the masts with Seokmin today after he’d been accused of neglecting them and a pouting Seokmin was not someone any of them could deny — before he speaks.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks, gaze still directed forward. “You seem a little anxious today.”

The sound of bare feet against the wood of the deck stops. “I- Sorry. It’s nothing. Not really.”

There’s something in his tone that has Wonwoo turning around, leaving only one hand on the wheel to stop it from spinning. “It’s not nothing.” Junhui looks at him then, the bruising under his eyes even more apparent under the stark light of the noonday sun. He looks exhausted, and Wonwoo wants to do nothing more than to take Junhui in his arms and rub those shadows away. “If it was nothing you wouldn’t be working yourself into the floor of my deck. Glad to see you’ve gotten the hang of your legs though.”

The smile Junhui offers in response is weak and Wonwoo frowns. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He says gently. “I know we’ve only just met-” his voice catches in his throat and he doesn’t miss the way something darkens in Junhui’s expression. “-but I just want you to know that you can talk to me. About… about anything.” His grip tightens on the wheel and he looks away, the tips of his ears burning.

Junhui doesn’t say anything and Wonwoo immediately regrets opening his mouth because why would Junhui talk to him anyway when he has Joshua and Minghao with him. Especially Minghao. He’s seen the way they are with each other and even the thought of it has something bitter rising in the back of his throat. What a stupid thing to say.

He is about to turn back to the wheel when Junhui speaks. “I’m just… I’m just worried.”

Wonwoo’s frown only deepens. “About?”

“You. I- I mean, _all_ of you.” He swallows and looks away. “This thing that I have asked of you. It is no small feat to traverse the seas of our domain. The waters are not friendly to humans, and this could bring death to everyone on this ship.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo says gently, and the look on Junhui’s face when he looks back at him feels like a knife in his chest. “It is not your fault. You didn’t ask for your Song to be stolen. You didn’t ask for humans to be involved. And if anything, I will be as much at fault for anything that happens to the men on this ship as you, if not more. It was my decision after all and I _had_ a choice.”

Junhui sighs, still despondent. “I guess you’re right. Doesn’t make it any easier to bear, though.”

Wonwoo brings a hand up to Junhui’s shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I guess we’ll have to bear it together then, hm?”

Junhui laughs, small, light, and just a little bit sad. He reaches up to place a hand over Wonwoo’s and his skin burns where they touch. “I guess so.”

They don’t look away from each other and Wonwoo takes the time to shamelessly study Junhui’s face. Not like he hasn’t over the course of the last few days but there is something more today than just the shadows and the weariness. There is a heaviness too, and it is obvious in the occasional strain of his expression and the sunkenness of his cheeks. There is something else too, something that passes between them, just for a second, and his breath catches in his throat.

“There’s something else too, isn’t there?” He asks eventually, and it snaps them out of it. Whatever _it_ was. “Something that’s affecting you, physically.” Junhui shifts, looks away, and the hand on his shoulder aches to touch him, to cup his cheek, to return Junhui’s gaze back to him. But he doesn’t move, leaves it where it is, resting on Junhui’s shoulder. “It’s the Song, isn’t it? Is it- Does it… Hurt?”

Junhui sighs, stepping away from him and Wonwoo’s hand falls back down to his side. “More than you can ever imagine. It feels like a part of me has been cut away, and not like a limb, like an organ. Something inside me so integral that it feels like I can’t function without it. Like I can’t _live_ without it.”

Wonwoo sucks in a breath. “Are you… _Dying?_ ”

“In a way. It won’t be for a while but it is difficult, living without it. Even more when we have to shift into this form. But,” he shoots Wonwoo a look to stop him from interrupting. “It is something we are willing to live with because it will help you, which in turn helps us so don’t even think about suggesting that we stop doing this.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Wonwoo splutters, and that has Junhui smiling for real, the light in his eyes returning. Gods, he is so beautiful.

“Sure you weren’t.” His expression turns serious again. “But I mean it, don’t worry about us. We aren’t going to collapse and die any time soon. Besides, you should worry about yourselves.” He pauses and looks out at the horizon, seeing and hearing things that Wonwoo will never be able to hear. “We’ll be reaching the Titans Wrath soon.”

»»————-————-««

The Titans Wrath is like nothing Wonwoo could have ever imagined. In his head, he had pictured the roiling seas that normally came during hurricane season along with maybe a smattering of rocks that they will have to manoeuvre themselves around but what he gets is a whole lot worse.

The entrance to Titan’s Wrath is unmistakable — the shift in the seas from a deep dark blue to an almost angry kind of black, the way the waves went from barely noticeable to meters high, the tops of them towering over the highest mast. Even the sky changed — from a bright, cloudless peach and blue to nothing but dark, grey clouds.

The ship is immediately thrown into a neighbouring wave, and they are drenched within seconds. Wonwoo yells out a command and Soonyoung and Seokmin grab hold of the mast ropes, readying themselves. It is an absolute nightmare, or worse. The storms of their worst nightmares can never compare to what they are going through. The seas jostle them about like they are nothing more than a tiny row boat, and Wonwoo fears that the waves will take them apart before they even reach the rocks.

It isn’t Junhui with him today, it is Joshua and, in some ways, Wonwoo is thankful because he doesn’t know if he would have been as calm as he is with Junhui here. Joshua directs him with absolute surety, in between waves, around pillars of rock that jut out from out of nowhere like the fingers of titans long gone.

Seungcheol and Mingyu are busy securing themselves and everyone else to the ship tethers with ropes around their waists before returning to their station at the main mast, and that helps to ease some of Wonwoo’s worries.

The seas only get worse from there. The waves start to loom over them, stories high, and cresting one of them leads to the sharpest drop any of them have ever experienced. They make it past the first few okay, a combined effort between him and his crew, who he’s never seen work the masts that fast in his life. Everything seems to be going well, too, or as well it can between trying not to get capsized by giant waves and trying not to smash themselves into rocks.

There are a few times when Joshua has had to direct him away from rocks hidden underwater too, or reefs so shallow they would have torn the hull of the ship apart if he had gone over them. It is during one of these manoeuvres that it happens, they are just cresting a wave, one of the biggest ones they’ve crossed and so far when suddenly Joshua lets out a shout. He yells at Wonwoo to make a sharp right, something that will put the ship in an extremely precarious position as it attempts to come down on the other side of the wave.

It is dangerous. The wave could knock the ship right over. But Joshua is insistent, and Wonwoo trusts him so he spins the wheel, hard, and the ships veers right sharply, nearly throwing Vernon out of where he’s still stationed on the crow’s nest. The ship tips over on its side precariously as the wave they were just coming down off looms over them. Wonwoo has to hold onto the wheel to make sure he doesn’t fall overboard and he sees the rest of the crew do the same. Seokmin and Soonyoung with one hand around each other and the other looped through the rope tethers around the foremast.

Seungcheol and Mingyu aren’t as fast, both of them having to throw themselves at their own tethers as the ship starts to tip dangerously, the masts almost parallel with the sea at this point. They land just in time, or, Mingyu lands in time. Wonwoo sees him catch onto one of the tethers just as the ship reaches its tipping point and then Wonwoo sees Seungcheol miss.

His fingers close around the edge of the tether but it isn’t enough, gravity pulls him down and away from the mast and towards the water. Wonwoo shouts but he can’t leave the wheel and it’s not like we would get to Seungcheol in time. He can only watch as Seungcheol falls, the rope tethering him to the ship getting longer and longer until it finally pulls taut.

And snaps.

He screams. He can’t hear himself over the sound of the storm and the waves but he knows he screams because he can feel it scrape this throat raw. He nearly goes after him, is a heartbeat away from letting go of the wheel when something flies past him. Joshua. He leaps towards the deck, already mid shift, and follows Seungcheol into the water leaving Wonwoo alone and without someone to direct him.

There is no stopping in these waters and Wonwoo has no choice but to continue foreward, even if it means he could crash into rock outcroppings hidden beneath mammoth waves. The ship rights itself once he hits the bottom of the wave but there is still no sign of Seungcheol and Joshua. He goes on instinct and the occasional signal from Vernon, who, from his vantage point, still has a better view than Wonwoo.

Vernon signals him away from one of the more obvious rocks towards and straight onto another wave. The ships climbs it, taking them almost vertical and they have to grab a hold of their tethers once more. He can see Mingyu struggling with the main mast sails by himself and he wishes that he can do something about it but he can’t. There aren’t enough of them and removing their tethers to change positions is completely out of the question.

He doesn’t know what he is doing either. They crest the wave, slamming down hard as the ship tilts the other way when he hears a voice and sees Junhui climbing over the side of the ship. Part of Wonwoo feels relief that they have a guide again but the other part is somewhere at the bottom of the ocean with Seungcheol and Joshua and no matter how much he tells himself not to, he can still see Seungcheol fall. He wants to yell at Junhui, wants to ask where Joshua is. Why it is him that’s back up here. But there is no time and Junhui is already yelling at him to swerve a shallow bed of rocks the same colour as the sea.

It is a repeat of that — climb, dip, swerve — for the next few hours, until Wonwoo can barely feel his arms anymore and the rest of the crew look like they are one second away from collapsing against the mast poles. And then, just as suddenly as the skies had darkened, the skies clear like they’d just crossed a giant land-to-sky barrier that somehow keeps the storm out of these normal waters. Or what Wonwoo hopes is normal waters.

They shoot out into calmer waters riding the tail end of a wave and Wonwoo nearly passes out at the sight. Instead, he leans forward to press his forehead onto the curved edge of the wheel and takes a deep breath. It shudders through him and his knees buckle but he catches himself before he can hit the deck, using the spokes of the wheel to pull himself up. Junhui is there in an instant, arms wrapping around Wonwoo to haul him upright.

He wants to shove Junhui off, wants to say he doesn’t need his help but he can’t, and Junhui’s arms around him feels so nice despite him running a lot colder than even the water soaking through his clothes. He mutters something that he’s sure is unintelligible, gesturing towards the main deck, but Junhui understands and guides him down the stairs to it.

The main deck is a mess, there are ropes tangled everywhere, splinters of wood litter the floor from where pieces of the mast must have broken off overhead. Seokmin and Soonyoung lie slumped against each other at the base of the foremast but they nod as he passes and he returns it grimly. Vernon salutes from the crows nest overhead before he slumps back down onto the bottom of it, legs dangling precariously over the edge. Mingyu, though, Mingyu isn’t at the main mast and Wonwoo’s heart leaps into his throat for a second before he spots Mingyu, bent almost in half over the railing.

“Gyu!” Wonwoo gasps, and Junhui releases him to stumble forward over the pieces of debris until he gets to Mingyu’s side. He grabs at Mingyu’s shirt and is just about to haul him up when he straightens up with a groan. His face is ashen and his cheeks are tear-stained and flecked with what Wonwoo realises is sick. His heart clenches and he reaches up to wipe at his cheeks gently. “Oh gods, Mingyu,” he says softly as he slicks back his hair to take a good look at him. Pallour aside he seems to have gotten out of it intact save for a small cut above his eyebrow.

“Cheol,” he manages to choke out before tears fill his eyes and he’s crushing Wonwoo to his chest and burying his face in his hair. Wonwoo wraps his arms around his waist, hand stroking the small of his back lightly as Mingyu continues to sob. He doesn’t know what to say. Normally, he would say that it’s okay, that everything will be okay, but even he can’t bring himself to say it right now. So he says nothing, just holds Mingyu until eventually the sobs subside and Mingyu pulls away. His eyes are swollen and rimmed red, and he looks about a second away from being sick again.

Wonwoo wishes he could take it all away, take it back, the pain, the decision to go on this journey. To take up a mantle he might not have had the strength to take. Mingyu sniffles and he reaches up to cup his cheeks, stroking them lightly with his thumb and Mingyu leans into the touch. “I saw him, Woo. When he- When he went over. He was right in front of me and then he wasn’t but there was the rope and then the rope snapped and-”

“Shh,” Wonwoo hushes, carding a hand through his hair. “I know. We all- We all saw him. I don’t-” and it is his turn to choke, the words catching in his throat and he looks away. “I don’t know what to do.”

“He is alright.” Wonwoo jumps, having forgotten that Junhui was there. He turns to him slowly, hands dropping to rest on Mingyu’s shoulders. “Your friend,” Junhui continues. “Joshua found him before he hit anything.”

Wonwoo stills, breath lodging in his throat. “Are you- Are you sure? Is he alive? Because even if Joshua found him, there’s no way anyone could survive that.” Mingyu’s hands tighten around his waist and he has to stifle a wince but he presses on anyway because he needs to _know._ “I mean, _we_ barely survived that and we were on a ship.”

Junhui nods, stepping closer. “He is alive. Joshua managed to pull him back to the surface before he drowned.”

“But how would they have even made it out of there?” It is Mingyu who asks and Wonwoo feels a pang in his chest at how hoarse his voice sounds.

Junhui smiles and for a second it looks like he wants to reach for Mingyu, but he holds himself back. “Joshua is one of our oldest. Within my generation at least. His abilities extend far beyond my own and he still has access to some of them even without the Song, though it is greatly limited. I cannot really explain because it goes beyond my own knowledge but,” he pauses to jerk his head towards the ocean. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Both he and Mingyu whirl around, releasing each other as they turn to look out over the rail and, sure enough, he sees them. Two figures in the water, still quite a ways in the distance, but the grey of Joshua’s hair is unmistakable against the sunset. It looks like he’s on his back, Seungcheol lying atop of his chest and, even from this distance there is no denying the fact that Seungcheol is alive.

Relief immediately floods through him and beside him he hears Mingyu let out a broken gasp that quickly turns into something a lot closer to a wail. It is instinctive, the way Wonwoo reaches for him and pulls him into his side, the way he lets Mingyu cry into his shoulder, a litany of ‘oh gods’ and ‘he’s alive’ whispered between broken sobs against his skin. His hand never leaves Mingyu’s back where it’s rubbing gentle circles into the damp cloth of his shirt, not even when Junhui comes up beside him.

Together, they watch as Joshua brings Seungcheol back to the ship, the light from the setting sun turning them into nothing more than silhouettes against the water. With his free hand, he reaches for Junhui’s, squeezing it lightly.

“Thank you,” he whispers, the tears falling freely now and it feels like something within him is slowly unravelling. He pulls Mingyu closer and holds onto Junhui tighter, a chain of lifelines on the edge of a precipice. “Thank you.”

»»————-————-««

Seungcheol is alive, and bit out of it and a lot banged up but he is alive and, according to Joshua, he will be okay. They haul the both of them up in the rowboat and Seungcheol is immediately placed on bed rest. There are scrapes across his face and large mottling bruises where his shirt has been ripped and all Wonwoo can do is that the gods that Joshua had reached him before the waves really smashed him against the rocks.

Joshua himself doesn’t look that great, he isn’t as beat up as Seungcheol but he has his fair share of scrapes and cuts and a really nasty looking gash across his back. He doesn’t let go of Seungcheol the whole time too, choosing to walk on half shifted legs to the room Seungcheol shares with Vernon to lie him down on the bed. Even then, he remains by Seungcheol’s side, one of Seungcheol’s hands in his, not speaking and a kind of far off look in his eyes like he’s looking at them but not really seeing.

They are given the okay to anchor in the small patch of calm sea they seem to have found just out of range of the Titan’s Wrath by Minghao who joins them later, looking just as tired as the rest of them.

He ignores all of them and goes straight to Junhui, pulling at his limbs and spinning him around to make sure nothing’s happened to him. It has Junhui squawking in embarrassment, the tips of his ears flaming before he is pulled into a hug that he eventually returns. Wonwoo sees it then, the warmth in their eyes as they look at each other, the way they lean into each other, the way, despite Junhui’s protests, he doesn’t let Minghao go. He does give Minghao’s side a pinch, though, which earns him a slap on the arm.

It does bring a smile to his lips though, and surprisingly he tastes nothing of the bitterness he’d had in his mouth the first time Junhui had introduced them and Minghao had looked at Wonwoo like he was only a second away from drowning him. And not in the good way either.

Mingyu comes up behind him, hand on his back strong and reassuring, and he leans into the touch. “Reminds you of something, doesn’t it?” The words come out so soft, barely a whisper but there is a smile in his voice too.

“Mmm,” Wonwoo hums, watching as Minghao finally releases Junhui but they still remain glued to each other, side by side, Junhui’s arm still around Minghao’s. “I do think I like Minghao better than you though.”

Mingyu snorts, thankfully soft enough to not get anyone’s attention except Seungcheol who is watching them with mild, dazed amusement. “Please, Minghao would you chew you up and spit you back out only so he can drown you.”

That has Wonwoo laughing for what feels like the first time in the last day and both Junhui and Minghao look over at them, eyebrows raised. He looks up at Mingyu, who is already watching him, lips pulled into a very smug grin, and shakes his head. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

Minghao and Junhui are still looking at them in mild confusion but he just smiles before he returns his attention to Seungcheol, who he would have approached sooner if Joshua wasn’t acting like the scariest guard dog he’s ever seen, fangs and all. Instead, he remains where he is at the foot of the bed.

“How are you feeling, Cheollie?” He asks, mood turning sombre once again as he takes in Seungcheol’s state.

“Like I got tossed around in the ocean,” Seungcheol says with a laugh that breaks off into a wince, and Joshua’s hands are on him immediately. There is a faint glow that emanates from where his palms are in contact with Seungcheol and something in Seungcheol relaxes. Wonwoo even swears he sees colour return to his cheeks. Joshua, on the other hand, slumps forward in his chair and he would have hit the ground if Minghao hadn’t rushed in to grab him. He is barely conscious now, complexion gone from pale to a true grey colour and his eyes have started to slip shut.

Minghao looks back at Junhui, worry in his eyes, and Junhui nods, coming up to rest his hands on Joshua’s shoulder once Minghao manages to get him into a sitting position. He turns to Wonwoo once they have Joshua where they need him.”We’ve called one of our healers. He should be able to help both Seungcheol and Joshua as well as maybe take a look at the rest of your men.”

Wonwoo nods. “Thank you. Joshua is he- Is he going to be okay?”

Junhui lips dip into a frown as he turns back to Joshua. “He exhausted himself, saving Seungcheol, so healing him like he just did was a very stupid decision. I’ve never seen Joshua act so reckless before. Although,” his gaze dips to where Joshua’s hand is now in Seungcheol’s. “I think I am beginning to understand.”

Wonwoo looks at their joined hands and then back at Junhui, who is still watching them with an unreadable expression. “What? You’re not saying they…” He trails off.

Junhui turns to him then, gaze so sharp that he almost feels it in his chest. “The world works in strange ways, Wonwoo. Especially our world. But I think,” he pauses, looks back at them one more time. “I think they will be alright.” There is a tinge of something to the smile that tugs at his lips and Wonwoo aches with the need to reach for him. But Junhui is quicker, stepping out of reach before he can even move. “Our healer will be here soon,” he says, and then he is gone, Minghao only glancing at Joshua once before going after him.

Their healer, as it turns out, is a small firecracker of a siren. His arrival is barely announced before he is sweeping into the room where Seungcheol and Joshua are resting, his pale lilac hair falling in a mess over his face. He is about an entire head shorter than Wonwoo but he looks like he could snap Wonwoo in half if he tried anything funny. Which he doesn’t, because he spends the entirety of his visit skirting the far wall of Seungcheol’s room, just enough to remain conveniently out of his way.

His name is Jihoon. A siren around Joshua’s age who specialises in healing, or whatever can do with what is left of the song within them. Wonwoo watches as Jihoon goes about his healing methodically, checking both Seungcheol and Joshua with deft fingers before finally addressing them. Mingyu is out on the main deck with the rest of his men, having cited needing to check on them too, so it is just Wonwoo left in the room with Junhui who had returned with Jihoon. He had resolutely placed himself on opposite sides of the room from Wonwoo who, under any other circumstances, would have questioned it but now was neither the time nor the place.

“They will both be okay,” Jihoon says, turning to Wonwoo, his brilliant purple eyes seeming to glint in the dim light of the room. “The human is quite banged up physically, but he will heal easily.” He turns to Junhui and the crest between his brow deepens. “Josh. He is exhausted. I think he extended too much of himself trying to save the human, and it doesn’t look like he’s fed recently either. I can give him enough energy to last him, and to heal the minor wounds he has, but he needs to feed, Jun.”

Junhui casts a quick glance at Wonwoo before answering, which has Wonoo fidgeting uneasily. “Don’t worry, we’ll take Josh to feed soon. Although…” he trails off frowning, gaze dropping to Seungcheol briefly before returning to Jihoon. “We will have him feed soon.”

Jihoon, having not caught the exchange (or having chosen not to notice), nods once. “See to it, or he will die, and I am not letting Joshua be the first to die.”

“We won’t let him, Hoon. Don’t worry.”

Jihoon smiles, satisfied. “Good.” He walks to Junhui, reaching up to grab Junhui’s face and bring it down to his eye level. “Speaking of feeding, _you_ haven’t fed in a while too. I can see it. You’re looking horrible.”

Junhui glances at Wonwoo then, barely a glance actually, almost imperceptible. Wonwoo would have missed it if he hadn’t already been watching Junhui. But he had, so he didn’t, and it has heat rushing to his face when he remembers, all of a sudden, exactly how sirens feed. “I’ll feed,” he says, simply, cheeks squished between the hands of a very stern-looking Jihoon.

“You had better,” Jihoon says sharply, and then his gaze softens and he gives Junhui’s face a soft pat. “The return of our Song is riding on you. It will do you no good if you die before we get to Calypso. Remember that.”

Junhui lowers his head, the perfect picture of a child chastised. “I know. I’ll look after myself, I promise.”

One more pat, and a small caress, and then Jihoon is letting Junhui go. “That’s all I ask. Now, leave me. This healing is going to take a while and I don’t need you two giants hovering over my shoulder. I will come out to take a look at the rest when I’m done.”

“Thank you,” Wonwoo says softly, reaching to clasp his hand. “You don’t know how much we appreciate this.”

Jihoon smiles, real and soft. He places his hand on top of Wonwoo’s and squeezes lightly. “No. Thank _you._ For doing this for us. We owe a great debt for even agreeing to this. This,” he gestures to where Seungcheol and Joshua are lying on the bed. “This is the least we can do.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to rebut him, to say that it is okay, that it is enough, but Jihoon has already released his hands and is turning back to the bed. A clear dismissal.

“Come on,” Junhui says quietly, the first words he’s spoken to Wonwoo since returning to Jihoon and he would be lying if he says it doesn’t take him by surprise. He starts slightly, staring at Junhui for a second as though he’s sprouted a second head, before Junhui is taking his arm and leading them both out of the bedroom.

The main deck is a lot less of a mess when they go back upstairs, the crew having decided to take it upon themselves to clear out the debris and splintered pieces of wood. Or, well, Mingyu has, Wonwoo realises when he sees Seokmin up in Vernon’s crow’s nest, the both of them leaning against the main mast with their legs sticking out over the edge.

Mingyu is still wandering around the deck, picking at stray pieces of rope and wood that must have snapped off during their journey. He has one of the smaller barrels in his hand, which he is using to hold all the broken pieces of rubbish that he will probably toss overboard when he is done. Wonwoo feels a sudden surge of gratitude and affection for him, for never tiring of this job that Wonwoo pretty much forced him into when they left their homes all those years ago.

The moon is full tonight — a pretty silver globe scattered amongst glittering starts in a dark, cloudless sky — and it lights up the entire deck perfectly. They don’t even have any of their gas lamps lit and Wonwoo can see every detail right down to the broken sliver of what looks like the top mast on the ground before him. He picks it up, twirls it between his fingers like the blades he used to practice with, the ones he still keeps locked in the drawer of his desk in the bedroom.

It is only then that he realises Soonyoung isn’t around. It shocks him that he didn’t notice it early because he rarely sees Seokmin and Soonyoung apart from each other. Strange. He wonders if maybe Soonyoung had been hurt more than he thought but he is sure that if that was the case Seokmin would be with him. He racks it up to exhaustion and brushes it off, everyone had been fine when he’d checked them earlier, maybe he is just resting.

Junhui’s hand is still on his arm and, without his notice, he had been steered to the far end of the ship, right before the railing slopes upward to join the one above them on the steering deck. Junhui lets go of him then to perch on the railing, which is a lot less dangerous than it sounds considering that the handrail is almost as thick as a bench. Wonwoo forgoes the perch to lean on it instead and they both remain like that for a while, silent as they watch the eerie stillness of the water around them, surface a mixture of black and silver where it reflects the moonlight.

He can hear the faint murmurs of conversation coming from Seokmin and Vernon above him and the occasional clatter of wood as Mingyu continues his round of the ship. Aside from that and the sound of the ocean lapping against the sides of the ship, everything is quiet, still, like they’d somehow stopped in a pocket of nothing, trapped in time. It is slightly disorienting, the stillness, and he has to press the heels of his palms against his eyes to ground himself.

He hears a rustle of movement beside him and then his hands are being peeled away from his face and replaced by Junhui’s, his cool hands a salve to his skin as his fingers knead the pressure away from his face. His eyes fall shut and he leans into the touch a bit more, a relieved sigh falling from his lips. He knows this is bordering on dangerous territory, they are too close and yet there are mountains left unsaid between them. He still doesn’t know if Junhui remembers him, even though he is becoming more and more convinced that this Junhui is still the same Junhui he met on the beach all those years ago.

He wants to ask, the question is poised, nocked and ready, the arrow on the bow that is his tongue, so he opens his mouth. “Jun,” he says, the nickname slipping from his lips through his daze, and Junhui’s hands still on his face. He opens his eyes only to find Junhui looking at him with a gaze so intense he can feel it pierce into the very depths of his being. He feels unquestionably _seen_ and it terrifies and excites him in equal measure.

“Wonwoo-” Wonwoo places his hands over Junhui’s, interrupting him.

“Please, just,” he takes a deep breath, grip unconsciously tightening where they’ve slipped to rest around Junhui’s wrist. “Let me speak. Please. I just- I have to ask this, now, while I still can.” He smiles sadly. “While I still have the courage.” Junhui nods. His hands have started to tremble and Junhui takes them in his and brings them down to his lap where he has adjusted so that he is sitting cross legged on the handrail facing Wonwoo. He takes a breath, deep and shaky, and continues. “Do you remember me? I was going to ask if it was you, the siren I met that summer, but I knew it was you the moment I saw. I just… I don’t know if you know me?”

There is a beat of silence and then Junhui is reaching for him, pulling him close until their foreheads touch and Junhui’s eyes are locked on nothing but his. He huffs out his own shaky exhale before his eyes fall shut. His grip is almost deathlike where it is tangled in his air. “Gods,’ he breathes. “You have no idea how much I wondered, how much I _hoped_ that you would remember me. Even if just in passing, a faint memory, something, _anything._ But I was so afraid. Afraid that you’d hate me, for leaving. For never showing up.”

Wonwoo pulls away and Junhui’s eyes shoot open, afraid. But Wonwoo is quick to reassure him, hands coming up to cup Junhui’s cheek gently, thumb tracing over the highs of Junhui’s cheekbones. “I admit, I was pretty upset when you stopped coming to see me, and there were many days that I spent wondering why you would leave me without saying anything. But I was also worried. What if something happened to you?” Something in his chest tightens at the memory and the smile he tries to offer comes out more than a little strained. “I would never hate you though. You were my-” He stops, breath catching in his throat and he has to force a swallow to get his voice working again. “I could never hate you.”

“Woo,” Junhui breaths, voice trembling slightly and a single tear falls, glittery under the light of the moon, That is all it takes to have Wonwoo surging upwards to connect their lips. The kiss isn’t soft, or chaste, there is too much emotion unearthed between them for it to be. Their lips clash together painfully, desperately, Junhui tugging on Wonwoo’s hair so that he can lick into him. The kiss is waves crashing, tumultuous on the shore, and Wonwoo sighs into it. Junhui tastes like how he did back then, like summer, and the ocean, fresh and salty, and Wonwoo revels in the feel of him on his tongue.

It is only when they hear a whoop from above them that they break apart, panting, and red-faced, both from the kiss and from embarrassment. It doesn’t deter Wonwoo for long though, and he leans in again to press another kiss, chaste this time, against Junhui’s lips, and Junhui’s hands slip from his hair down to his neck. He pulls away just enough to speak, their lips still brushing. “I’ve missed you. So much.”

Junhui smiles, presses their lips together one more time. “And I’ve missed you. Gods know I’ve missed you.”

Wonwoo sighs, content, stepping forward as Junhui lowers his legs so that he can stand between them, arms dropping to circle Junhui’s waist instead. He presses his face into the crook of Junhui’s neck, breathes him in, relishing in the wave of familiarity that washes over him. Perhaps it is this that overtakes him, the feeling of the tightness in his chest loosening, the familiarity of being back in Junhui’s arms, the _relief_ that Junhui remembers. Or maybe it is a culmination of everything that makes him murmur, softly, into the curve of Junhui’s neck, the boldest thing he has ever said in his life.

“Feed on me.”

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, hadn’t really expected the words to make it past his lips for that matter, but it definitely isn’t Junhui pushing him away. His face is a kaleidoscope of emotion, mainly confusion, and Wonwoo immediately wishes he never said anything.

“I’m sorry,” he fumbles, looking away. “I didn’t mean- I mean… It wasn’t supposed to come out. I was just… I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath, tries to calm himself down. “I don’t know what came over me but I just- I remembered what Jihoon said and I thought…” He trails off helplessly.

“Did you mean it?” Wonwoo’s head snaps back to Junhui and he sees the wariness in Junhui’s eyes, and something else, something darker and it has something heavy settling into the pit of his stomach.

He nods. “Yes. I just… Jihoon said you had to feed and I don’t think,” he swallows. “I don’t think I could bear the thought of you feeding on someone else.”

That has Junhui flushing, cheeks dusting a light pink, and he dips his head before reaching for Wonwoo to pull him closer. Wonwoo’s arms return to their spot around his waist as he looks up at Junhui, who is already looking at him. He brushes the hair back from Wonwoo’s face gently. “Okay. But only if you’re sure. I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to do this.”

He smiles, takes the hand that is still on his face and brings it to his lips to press and kiss to the knuckles. “I want to.”

Junhui takes a deep breath before he finally nods, taking Wonwoo’s hand in his. His smile is encouraging, as is the squeeze around Wonwoo’s hand, before he gestures towards the staircase that leads below deck. “Lead the way.”

From there, the rest of the night blurs into nothing but every emotion he’s ever held in his heart bleeding out onto the sheets and into the kisses he presses into Junhui’s skin. They don’t speak, not even when Junhui truly starts to feed from him and he starts to feel like he’s burning from the inside, but in the most beautiful way. Junhui takes and Wonwoo is so willing to give, and he gives it all, murmuring everything but the words he really wants to say into the curve of Junhui’s neck until he is spent and Junhui is satiated.

He doesn't know how long they lie there, having lost all thought of everything that isn’t Junhui or the way he feels wrapped around him, body always cool against the searing heat of Wonwoo’s skin. And when he wakes up to find Junhui still there, arm wrapped loosely around his waist and head pillowed against Wonwoo’s chest, he realises that maybe this is what coming home feels like.

When they well and truly wake, it is still dark outside but Wonwoo can hear the sound of footsteps both on the deck above them and on this deck. Junhui is only half awake, having opened an eye when Wonwoo had woken, before promptly taking himself back against Wonwoo’s side. Wonwoo allows himself to take in the sight of Junhui, midnight hair gleaming under the soft light of the moon filtering in through the window behind them. He turns to press a kiss into the crown of Junhui’s head, chuckling slightly when Junhui only curls himself against Wonwoo further.

He traces the length of Junhui’s thigh up to his hip where he gives it a small squeeze. Junhui’s eyes immediately fly open before his expression becomes disgruntled and he rolls over, burying his head beneath the pillow. “Junnie,” Wonwoo whispers, leaning over to press a kiss into the space between Junhui’s shoulder blades. “We need to get up. I don’t think you should be out of the water this long and we have to check on Jihoon.”

Junhui groans, burying himself further. “Just fed. Can stay longer. Jihoon can check on himself.”

That has Wonwoo laughing outright and he wraps an arm around Junhui to pull him close. He presses a kiss into the nape of his neck. “Fine. You can stay. I have to go check on my crew, especially since we kicked Mingyu out of his bed.”

Junhui tenses underneath him and the sudden realisation of what he’s just said hits him. “Are you two…?” Junhui asks, a hardness in his voice that wasn’t there before.

Wonwoo holds on tighter, pressing Junhui against him even though he knows his heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of his ribcage. “No. Not in that way. It’s complicated but it’s not like that, I promise.”

The tension doesn’t fully leave Junhui but he does relax slightly, although the way his fingers are tracing patterns into the skin of Wonwoo's arm gives him away. “But you share a room. A bed.”

Wonwoo sighs, dipping his to rest it on Junhui’s shoulder. “We all share rooms here. We share a bed because we’ve shared one since we were sixteen. He’s my best friend.”

“Have you slept with him?”

Wonwoo groans inwardly but he knows this is a conversation they need to have, or will need to have eventually. “Yes. Have you slept with Minghao?”

Junhui tenses again. “Yes.” It isn’t unexpected, he’d seen the two of them after all, the way they’ve always been comfortable with touches that go just beyond the bounds of friendly. It isn’t unexpected, but it doesn’t sit right with Wonwoo all the same, the truth sinking like a weight into the pit of his stomach.

He doesn’t let it show though, schools his expression before he nudges Junhui lightly. “Well, there you go then,” Wonwoo says. “We’re even.”

“I guess we are,” Junhui sighs but he rolls over so that he is facing Wonwoo, a small smile, a peace offering on his face and Wonwoo takes it for what it sees, ignores the traces of something else underneath it because he has no right to it. Junhui is just Junhui, a friend returned, nothing more. Junhui reaches for his hand and presses the back of it to his lips, not really a kiss, but almost and Wonwoo smiles back.

“Now, come on. We need to check on Joshua and Seungcheol, and,” he pauses to brush the hair away from Junhui’s face. “I think you need to be back in the water. You’re looking a bit peaky.”

Junhui snorts, and everything rights itself. The tension dissipates as Junhui swats his hand a way, a playful smile dancing across his lips. “Alright, alright. Gods I don’t remember you ever being this naggy.”

“Not my fault you missed the last ten years.” Wonwoo means for it to come out as a joke but Junhui’s face falls.

“Wonwoo, I-,” Wonwoo presses fingers to Junhui’s lips. They will need to talk about it, he knows, they will need to talk about a lot of things but now isn't the time. Not when they have injured friends and Junhui is pretty much living on borrowed time.

“Not now. We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Junhui sighs. “Fine.”

As it turns out, their timing is perfect because they leave the room only to be met with Jihoon on his way out from Seungcheol’s room across the deck and, surprisingly, both Minghao and Soonyoung, who are already halfway up the stairs. They freeze when they hear the doors opening, Soonyoung turning a spectacular shade of pink while Minghao tries to keep his expression neutral.

It is a three-way stare off, all three parties looking at each other before Junhui lets out a snort that turns into a laugh, which has Soonyoung blushing even harder and Minghao looking like he’d rather be anywhere other than here. It only takes Wonwoo a couple of seconds to put two and two together, and when he does he thinks his jaw might have actually hit the ground with how far it drops.

Wonwoo points at Soonyoung, accusing. “You! I was wondering where you disappeared to. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Seokmin without you in the last five years.”

Soonyoung blanches and then tries to recover himself but he’s long since given himself away and he knows it. Instead he just levels a glare at Wonwoo, just enough heat behind it for Wonwoo to feel a tad bit guilty when Soonyoung points between him and Junhui. “I could say the same for you! Where did you leave Mingyu while you… while you…” He gestures wildly, ears flaming.

“Where did you leave Seok?” Wonwoo counters, and Jihoon sighs, closing the door loud enough for the both of them to jump. He looks between the pairs with such sheer exasperation that he doesn’t even need to speak for Wonwoo to feel chastised.

He steps in between the pairs. He doesn’t say anything except a brief: “You are all adults, please remember that,” before he steps past them to head upstairs to the main deck.

Wonwoo looks at Soonyoung, eyes narrowing. “Don’t think you’ve escaped, Kwon Soonyoung.”

He sniffs. “Likewise.”

Minghao lets out another sigh but he takes Soonyoung’s hand in his, effectively shutting him up, before he leads upstairs and out onto the main deck. Junhui doesn’t take Wonwoo’s but he places a hand on the small of Wonwoo’s back and they make their way up together.

Jihoon, for all that he’d just spent half the night tending to Joshua and Seungcheol, is already dealing with the minor cuts and bruises the rest of the crew have. His hands are on Mingyu when Wonwoo and Junhui step out onto the deck, silver light pulsating beneath his palms where he has them pressed across his face. Wonwoo watches in amazement as the gash over his eyebrow seems to knit together before his eyes until it is nothing more than a red welt. He follows that by doing the same over Mingyu’s chest and he immediately sees the tension leave his body.

Mingyu’s eyes flutter open when Jihoon steps away to see to Vernon and Seokmin, who have already made their way down from the crow’s nest, and they land on where Wonwoo is standing with Junhui. He meets Wonwoo’s eye and raises an eyebrow, teasing, and Wonwoo starts to prepare himself mentally for the conversation that he knows will come. Not because it will be difficult, but because he knows Mingyu will never let him live this down.

Jihoon makes quick work of healing Seokmin and Vernon, skipping over both Wonwoo and Seokmin who he says should have received some form of healing during the ‘feeding process’. Jihoon’s tone is teasing and this time it is both Junhui and Minghao who flush and Wonwoo already wishes he was back in bed. Jihoon also tells them that Joshua and Seungcheol will be fine but that they should probably avoid the room if they want to maintain their sanity and whatever form of peace they’d had on this ship prior to this.

He also tells them that he will be in the water with Junhui and Minghao for the rest of their journey, just in case, and Wonwoo is almost overwhelmed by the sudden urge to hug Jihoon (he doesn’t, of course, his self-preservation skills are top notch and he doesn’t have a death wish).

They say their goodbyes after Jihoon disappears over the side without so much as a backwards glance. The touch Junhui places on his shoulder is tentative and Wonwoo answers it by pulling Junhui into an embrace. He snakes his arms around Junhui’s waist and presses his face into the curve of Junhui’s neck, breathing him in in the hope that he can commit everything to memory. Just in case. Junhui understands, presses Wonwoo closer for a bit before he finally releases him, a small, shy smile on his face.

He brushes his thumb across Wonwoo’s cheek lightly. “Get some rest, Wonwoo,” he says, and then he is diving over the edge as well. Further down, he sees Minghao pressing a kiss full onto Soonyoung’s lips before he dives over the handrail with a smirk on his face.

Mingyu comes up to him while he watches Soonyoung remain rooted to the spot, hands on his lips as though he can’t actually believe what just happened. “So,” Mingyu says, and the smile in his voice already has Wonwoo on high alert. “You and Junhui, huh?”

Wonwoo groans, turning to knock his head against Mingyu’s shoulder as he lets out a laugh. “No. Not now, please. You can interrogate me tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Mingyu says, turning so that Wonwoo is forced to lift his head from Mingyu’s shoulder. Mingyu is looking down at him with nothing but faint amusement in his eyes and he is suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for him. He doesn’t think he could have found a man as understanding as him to be betrothed to if he searched all the lands for a thousand years. He really doesn’t deserve Mingyu. “But you defiled our bed so you’re changing the sheets.”

And, he takes it back.

»»————-————-««

It takes them another full day to fully recover from the damage they suffered following their journey through the Titan’s Wrath. Wonwoo, especially, wanted to make sure both Seungcheol and Joshua were okay enough to travel because, as much as he would have liked to keep Seungcheol on bed rest, the clock is ticking and Mingyu needs him on the main mast.

Thankfully, Jihoon is good at what he does and Joshua is back in the water the morning after while Seungcheol finally steps out of his room looking a right sight better than death a few hours after. He seeks Wonwoo out first, not saying anything at first as he sits himself beside him on the bow of the ship. They spend a few minutes like that, saying nothing as they look out over the strange cerulean sea, a colour far too bright to be normal. The water is crystal, too, allowing them to see far down into its depths where the sirens seem to be having a gathering of their own.

It is only when Joshua swims past, flipping over onto his back to wave at them, that Seungcheol finally speaks, the words spilling out in such a flurry that Wonwoo has to place a hand on his shoulder and tell him to slow down. Seungcheol lets everything out, apologies mixed into everything that’s happened since entering the Titan’s Wrath, and Wonwoo can’t do anything except listen. Seungcheol had been the most vocal about not trusting the sirens after all and, while he had almost died, having Joshua risk his own life to save him seems to have put a lot of things into perspective.

And Wonwoo forgives him, because who would he be if he didn’t. He tells Seungcheol as much too, reaching over to hook an arm around his neck so that he can tug him into a one-armed hug because that is how they work sometimes, actions speaking volumes over their words. Seungcheol doesn’t talk about what happened after, though, about Joshua, and Wonwoo doesn’t press. If Seungcheol wants to talk about it, he will.

The next gate is Poseidon’s Halls — the only one the sirens seem to know nothing about aside from the fact that their entry will be marked by a wall of mist. It is because the magic doesn’t work on them, Junhui explains during the meeting before they set off, their motley group of ten huddled once more around the large table in their dining hall. According to Junhui, nothing ever happens to the ship or the men _physically_ but the screams of sailors long past are said to haunt the waters. Joshua and Jihoon are the only ones old enough to have seen a ship make it that far but neither of them will talk about it. The only thing they mention, in the end, is that the sirens will be there to help when the time comes.

None of this sits well with Wonwoo, the entire ship practically going in blind. It settles under his skin like an itch that he can’t scratch and it leaves him irritable for the rest of the time all the way until they finally set off for it, once again relying on the sirens to guide them.

Minghao takes the lead first, standing by Wonwoo behind the wheel like a mildly terrifying, ever present shadow. It sets Wonwoo on edge and he isn’t the only one distracted by Minghao’s presence on the deck, if the looks Soonyoung keeps shooting at them are anything to go by. Wonwoo would be a lot more amused by the situation if he wasn’t already wound so taut that anything could cause him to snap. In the end, he does send Minghao over to Soonyoung, if only to rid himself of the horrible feeling of someone breathing down the back of his neck.

The journey itself is an odd one. They coast through this strange stretch of clear white skies and seas that are an unnatural, brilliant blue shade, the sunlight is glaring but the heat is almost non-existent. In fact, halfway through (or what Wonwoo thinks is halfway, he doesn’t really know), the temperature of the air around them starts to drop despite the fact that the sky remains cloudless. The shift is almost imperceptible at first but then then chill starts to seep in, settling deep into their bones in a way that makes Wonwoo feel like he will never be properly warm again.

He shivers, the thin material of his shirt doing absolutely nothing to keep his warmth from leaking out of him. The rest of the crew feel it too, especially Mingyu and Seungcheol who have always been adamant about their sleeveless shirts and fests, occasionally choosing to sail topless. He is thankful they are both wearing shirts now, even though he knows they make very little difference with how quickly the temperature seems to be falling.

Mingyu looks up at him then, always attuned to Wonwoo, and cocks his head. A question. Wonwoo nods and Mingyu whispers something to Seungcheol before disappearing below deck. It barely takes more than a few minutes before he is returning with a couple of furs in his hand, most of them spoils of a raid they made on a merchant ship from a long time ago. He drapes one around Seungcheol before going around to pass them out to the rest of the crew, even offering one to a very incredulous-looking Minghao who shakes his head.

He makes his way to Wonwoo, furs in hand, and hands Wonwoo one, the only one that is coloured a deep navy amongst a sea of neutral reds and browns. This one didn’t come from the raid. This one is his own, something Mingyu must have taken with him when they left. He holds it out to Wonwoo, a reminder, and Wonwoo receives the message loud and clear. It doesn’t stop him from shooting Mingyu a withering look, which does absolutely nothing to deter him.

He slips it over his shoulders and Mingyu reaches to help him secure the carved silver clasps that lie against his throat, his fingers lingering there just a beat longer than he needs to. It is almost too much for him — he wants to rip the cloak off and toss it over the side of the ship if he’s being honest — but he knows that Mingyu means well, that he has a point. So he reaches for the cloak in Mingyu’s arms instead, perfectly black, a complement to his own if the carvings in the clasps are anything to go by, and he slips it over Mingyu’s shoulders — a peace offering — and Mingyu relaxes slightly. He takes Wonwoo’s hand in his and squeezes it lightly before returning to his station.

It doesn’t take much longer before they reach the entrance to Poseidon’s Hall. The skies have shifted from white and clear to grey and overcast, the clouds hanging low over the ocean in a way that makes Wonwoo feel like the sky is falling on them. The temperatures have dropped to ridiculous lows too, to the point where they can see their breaths misting on every exhale. The furs aren’t nearly enough for temperatures like this but Wonwoo figures that, as long as they make it to the other side within a day, they will be okay. They _should_ be okay.

They reach the wall of mist itself a bit later though, once they’re all thoroughly frozen through and they’d had to send Mingyu back down for what gloves they’d kept from the raid too. They all look ridiculous now, garbed in expensive furs over their own tattered and sun-bleached clothes, but it is better than ending up frozen to their posts.

The wall itself is terrifying, the mist looks more solid than it should as it pulses and swirls in a wall that stretches out to the horizons on both sides and all the way up into the clouds. Tendrils reach from it, wrapping around the bow of their boat, and around the poles of their masts like the mist itself has a life of its own. One of the tendrils even finds its way up to the crow’s nest, wrapping itself around one of the poles in the railing and Vernon has to scramble away from it.

The sirens come up from the water just as the bow of the ship penetrates the mist, all of them with looks on their faces that tell Wonwoo nothing good is going to happen. It happens slowly, like the ship has slowed to a glacial pace, the mist swallowing small sections of the deck at a time. It is Seokmin and Soonyoung who enter it first, along with Minghao, whose silhouette Wonwoo can just make out through the wall. Nothing happens for a second and then suddenly Minghao is dashing through the mist, silhouette fading into the whiteness but not before he hears the muffled sounds of a tussle and then what sounds eerily like a long drawn out wail, one that is almost immediately swallowed by the mist. It sends a shiver down his spine and all the hairs on his body immediately stand on end.

Junhui walks towards him, concern in his gaze when he realises that Wonwoo is afraid, the grip he has on the wheel having become deathlike. Wordlessly, Junhui pries Wonwoo’s hand from the wheel and transfers it to his own, giving it a squeeze that does little to reassure him, especially not now that the mist is slowly approaching the main mast. Mingyu looks back at him then, when they are inches away from being swallowed and Wonwoo’s heart shoots into his throat. Emotions war within him and he releases Junhui’s hand, body already angling to walk to Mingyu, to make sure that he isn’t alone when he goes into the mist. And Mingyu sees, because of course he does, the same way Wonwoo sees him shake his head, just once, a small movement that could easily have been passed off as a nervous tick. But Wonwoo knows and he halts in place, breath catching in his throat when Mingyu offers him one last smile before the mist swallows him, along with Seungcheol and Vernon.

He makes a distressed noise when they disappear and Junhui wraps an arm around him as much to pull him closer as to stop him from rushing off into the mist. Wonwoo turns to him, eyes wide with fear and worry, Junhui’s expression softens. He reaches his free arm out to Wonwoo to brush lightly across Wonwoo’s cheek. “Don’t worry, they will be fine.” He jerks his head towards where Mingyu and Seungcheol had been. “Joshua and Jihoon are with them. They won’t let anything happen to them, I promise.”

Wonwoo tries for a smile but it doesn’t come out right and he reaches to circle his hand around Junhui’s wrist, needing something to hold on to, to ground him. “I’m just worried,” he says. “If anything happens, not just to Mingyu but to any of them-”

“Stop,” Junhui cuts him off. “They will be fine. Besides, I think you can afford to worry about yourself a little more, hm?” He nods to where the mist is, barely a few feet from them now.

“I’m not afraid,” Wonwoo whispers, but he tugs Junhui forward to press their lips together anyway. The kiss betrays him, and he knows Junhui knows, but Junhui is nothing if not accommodating so he kisses Wonwoo back, just hard enough that neither of them notice the mist swallowing them whole.

They pull away, both panting, and Wonwoo realises that it isn’t exactly white in the mist. Instead, it feels very much like he’s been swallowed by a storm cloud, the mist blocking out whatever light there had been outside until they are stuck in this kind of in-between type of darkness.

He looks around but he can’t see more than an arm span beyond him but he can see Junhui and the way his eyes have darkened something fierce since they’ve entered the mist. All traces of worry gone, replaced by what he can only describe as some kind of hunger. It has something stirring in the pit of his stomach and he surges forward to capture Junhui’s lips again, moaning slightly when Junhui nibbles on his bottom lip. He feels Junhui press him into the wheel, the spokes digging into his back slightly, but then Junhui licks into him and then all external sensation disappears and there is nothing except the feel of Junhui in his arms.

Junhui kisses him with a purpose, barely letting him come up for air, and he finds that he doesn’t mind, that he will gladly give Junhui whatever he wants, especially with how Junhui feels in lap, although he has no recollection of being brought down to the floor. But then Junhui’s hands are in his hair and his mouth is on his neck, and Wonwoo wonders if maybe this is what drowning feels like.

Then Junhui pulls away, the hunger in his eyes dissipating to be replaced by a gleam of satiation. Wonwoo lets out a disgruntled sound and leans forward but Junhui places a hand over Wonwoo’s mouth, lips quirking into a grin that reveals the rows of his fangs. He stands up and steps away from Wonwoo, grin still etched into his face, which seems to be, at the same time, both Junhui and yet distinctly _not_ Junhui. Junhui takes another step away and Wonwoo tries to get up, to chase after him, but he finds that he can’t. Something is wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his side and keeping him in place.

“Jun!” He cries and Junhui’s grin only widens, and then it distorts into something else entirely, stretching and contorting to reveal more teeth than should be possible. Wonwoo gasps, startling so hard he hits his head on… something. He doesn’t know, he can’t move and the grey has become pitch black except for where he and Junhui seem to be.

When he looks back there is only a normal-looking Junhui again, although the smile he still has on his face is the same and it chills Wonwoo to the bone. “Junhui,” he gasps, heart tightening painfully in his chest. “What are you- where are you going?”

Junhui merely looks at him, and it is like he isn’t even really seeing Wonwoo anymore. “Back home, of course.” He takes a step and suddenly he is in front of Wonwoo, and Wonwoo jerks back, hissing as his head smacks against something once again. He tries to struggle but he is firmly rooted in place. “Why?” Junhui purrs, trailing a fingertip along Wonwoo’s cheek leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Were you expecting me to stay? Do you think I love you?” He traces the line of Wonwoo’s jaw before trailing down Wonwoo’s chest, stopping just over his heart but he feels it anyway, the way Junhui sinks his claws deep into his chest, closing around his heart. He cocks his head to the side, smile unmoving, eyes burning a deep midnight. “What did you think that was, when we first met? Love?” He leans in closer and Wonwoo can’t help the choked whimper that breaks free from his chest. “I sang to you, back then, on the beach, Wonwoo. Didn’t you hear it? My beautiful song. Or did you think it was love? That thing you felt blossoming in your chest?” He laughs, the sound still so musical but tinged with something else, something that makes Wonwoo equal parts heartbroken and terrified. “Silly of you. No. I was just so, so _hungry!”_

He lunges for Wonwoo, teeth gleaming, going for his throat and Wonwoo screams, eyes squeezing his shut. But the pain never comes. When he opens his eyes Junhui is gone, and so is the darkness. He is in a large hall now, one that he recognises with a painful clarity. A deep blue and silver carpet running down the entire length of it in the middle, the middle of it etched with a crest one that makes Wonwoo immediately feel sick to his stomach.

The carpet leads to a dias upon which sit two thrones, gilded in dark oak and silver. It looks exactly as it did the night Wonwoo left; pristine, torches lit in brackets that hang from the light marble pillars lining the sides of it, a crest carved into each and everyone. It is exactly the same, exactly why he hated it. He struggles against whatever is holding him, tying him to one of the pillars in the middle of the hall.

He wants to call out for Junhui but his words still ring in his ears, the revelation that maybe he had been wrong about Junhui, about the sirens, about everything he’s ever felt for Junhui, stings and it feels like something within him is slowly falling apart every time he thinks about it. He swallows the sob that rises and looks around, wondering if maybe he can find someone to release him somehow, when he realises that he isn’t, in fact, alone. The dias that had been empty earlier are occupied, by the two people he never thought he’d see again, not even in his wildest dreams.

His parents sit on the throne, their gazes hard but they are not looking at him, they are looking at the figure bowed before them. Wonwoo doesn’t even need to think about who it is, his dark hair identical to Wonwoo’s as it falls over his face. “Chan,” he whispers. “Chan!” He yells, voice echoing in a weird way so that it comes back to him lower and distorted. They don’t react, they don’t even flinch, there is no sign at all that they are aware of Wonwoo.

He watches as his parents snap their fingers and a faceless servant appears from between the thrones carrying a cushion in his arms. A crown sits atop it, gleaming silver and studded with sapphires. _His_ crown. “No,” he whispers, straining once again at the bonds holding him back. “No, no no. Please.” But, no one hears him.

His mother reaches for the crown, waving a hand at the servant who bows and slips away. There is a smile on her face, much like the one she used to wear when she used to watch them train, cold and hard. She gestures and Chan stands, and it is only then that Wonwoo realises it is Chan as he last saw him; barely more than a child, not even sixteen, not the Chan who should now be over twenty, and his heart sinks.

He struggles once more, tries to rip the bonds free but he only succeeds in sending a wave pain through his arms as whatever is holding him starts to burn. He swallows a cry and tries again, even as Chan walks up the steps of the dias only to kneel once more before their mother. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t say anything as his mother holds the crown over Chan’s head. Wonwoo holds his breath as the crown is lowered, his hands clenched so hard into fists his palms are probably bleeding.

But, just as the crown touches his head, it transforms into a noose, silver and studded with sapphires. The noose slips over Chan’s head easy and Wonwoo cries out. “No! No, please. Channie, please take it off. That’s not yours. That’s supposed to be mine. It’s supposed to be mine. Please take it off!” The tears rolling down his cheek burn but not as much as his chest where it feels like his lungs are on fire and he can’t breathe. He is babbling now, desperate to do anything that could maybe get their attention. “Channie! Mother, take it off him! Please! Put it on me. Please,” he sobs. “Take it off and put it on me.”

Nothing happens. No one hears and the noose slips around Chan’s neck, tightening as it goes and Wonwoo can only watch in horror as Chan is lifted from the ground, as he struggles against the noose, legs kicking desperately, and Wonwoo mirrors him. He thrashes against the bonds holding him, throws everything he has into because maybe if he gets there on time, he can save Chan. He tries, even as he sees the strength leave Chan’s body. He tries, even when Chan releases his hold around the noose and his legs finally stop kicking. He hears Chan take his last breath, hears his name on Chan’s lips as he goes completely limp.

He yells and he cries, he throws himself against the bonds, his heart is shattered into a million pieces, strung up in silver beside and he sobs even harder. His chest hurts and he can’t breathe between the weight of his guilt and how hard he is crying. He wishes he could have spoken to him, held him one last time. Something, _anything._ He would have taken the crown if it meant saving him, he would have done anything.

“I’m sorry, Channie,” he sobs clutching at his chest as he curls in on himself. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.” His head snaps up at the sound of the voice — a new one not his parents, not Chan — and he finds himself face to face with his crew. All of them, even Mingyu, stand over him, their gazes hard and unforgiving.

It is Seungcheol that spoke and Wonwoo looks at him to find nothing but anger and hatred. “You did this. You killed him.”

Soonyoung steps forward, arms crossed, the hatred in his eyes a mirror of Seungcheol’s, a mirror of everyone’s. “You’re a murderer.”

“And you’re a liar.” This time it’s Seokmin, the emotion so misplaced on Seokmin’s face that Wonwoo flinches from it, feels the words like a strike against his skin.

“You lied to us.” Vernon holds his spyglass in his hands. He spins it and it becomes a blade. “You lied to us for almost ten years.”

Mingyu steps forward, the only one who’s expression isn’t anger, but sadness and disappointment, and it hits Wonwoo harder than anything. “You stole me away. You robbed me of my life. I don’t even know who I am anymore.” His face disappears but he carries on, his voice echoing like he is right beside Wonwoo, and Wonwoo lets out a choked scream. “Who am I, Wonwoo?”

The voices of the other members join him, a resounding cacophony of accusations that surround him, drown him, dig into his skin even as they close in on him, the curved edges of blades appearing in their hands.

_Liar._

_Murderer._

_Who am I?_

_You killed him._

_Your own brother._

_Who are you?_

_Liar._

_Murderer._

Wonwoo sobs, curling in on himself, tries to bury his head in his hands as much as he can but the words find their way in, he feels it rebound even inside his head. “I’m sorry,” he says in between shallow breaths and choked out sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. I didn’t mean to. Please forgive me. Please forgive me.”

The voices crescendo and he curls himself in tighter, murmuring a litany of apologies even as he braces himself for the blades to fall. But they don’t. Instead, he gets a cool hand on his arm and he yells, jumping so hard away from the touch he hits his head again. His eyes shoot open and he sees Junhui and he immediately tries to shrink away even more, the Junhui from before superimposing on this one, fangs on top of a gentle smile. Something flashes across Junhui’s face, confusion? Hurt? Wonwoo doesn’t know, he is too busy trying to inch away from him.

“Wonwoo,” Junhui’s voice is soft, gentle, none of the weird distortions and echoes from before. “Wonwoo, it’s okay. We’re out of the mist now.”

It is only then that Wonwoo realises there are blue skies above them again, the mist a wall that is quickly disappearing into the distance. He also realises that he has been tied down to the pole the wheel is attached to, which explains why he can’t move and the way the top of his head is throbbing right now.

“Wonwoo,” Junhui repeats softly and Wonwoo finally looks at him, relief washing through him when he sees none of the darkness or the coldness. Nothing in his eyes but concern. But Wonwoo still hears the words though, it echoes in his mind anyway. _Did you think it was love?_ Wonwoo flinches unconsciously and Junhui’s mouth flattens slightly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He reaches out a hand and Wonwoo has to force himself not to twitch. “Can I… Can I touch you?”

There is so much care and concern in his voice, and worry, and Wonwoo feels his heart swell in his response but his thoughts are so loud, the memory of Junhui from before so vivid. It was a war of emotions in his mind and he doesn’t know what to do but he nods anyway, if only to feel something against skin. Maybe then he will know what is real.

Junhui is careful, his fingers cool as he brushes the tears away from his eyes and the hair from his face. He is gentle as he releases the rope around Wonwoo, catching him when he falls forward. This Junhui he knows, he is solid, and cool, and he holds Wonwoo as he sobs even more into his chest, murmurs encouragement into the crown of his head as he traces calming patterns into his back.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, soft and gentle, fingers slipping into his hair to card through it. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Everyone is okay.”

Wonwoo stays like that until the sobs no longer wrack his body and he feels like he can speak without choking on a breath or a sob halfway. Only then does he pull away from Junhui to study him, to make sure. He reaches out a hand to trace the lines of Junhui’s face, the way his eyes look back at him, deep and blue, but so warm. Nothing like the Junhui from before. “Is it really you?” He breathes, fingers trailing over Junhui’s cheekbones.

Junhui takes his hand then, presses his knuckles to his lips before intertwining their fingers. “It’s me. I promise. And I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo stiffens, frowning as the doubt starts to creep in again. “What for?”

Junhui squeezes his hand, reminding him, grounding him. “For whatever you saw. And for tying you up.”

“Why _was_ I tied up?” He asks, pauses, backpedals slightly. “And what do you mean what I saw? Was it not- Did that not happen?”

Junhui sighs, reaching for him to guide him back against his chest. “We had to tie you up because Seokmin nearly through himself over the edge, and we figured whatever you guys were seeing in your heads would probably make you do the same.”

“In… our heads,” Wonwoo repeats. “So none of that… was real? You didn’t,” he swallows. “You didn’t see anything?”

Junhui shakes his head returning his hand to Wonwoo’s hair and he relaxes a little bit more. “No. When we entered the mist there was nothing and then you all started screaming, or crying. And then you started trying to throw yourselves off the boat and we panicked, which is why you are all tied to something. At first we wondered if you were all seeing the same thing but then you started calling out my name and everyone started yelling different things.” He pulls Wonwoo tighter, presses his lips into the crown of his head. “It was terrifying.”

Wonwoo shivers, the image of Chan hanging lifeless from the ceiling of the hall flashing through his mind. He scrunches his eyes shut and buries his face in Junhui’s chest. “Yeah. It was.” They lapse into silence for a while, both of them say nothing as they hold each other, the noises from the rest of the crew floating up from the main deck below them. That is what makes Wonwoo speak again. “I know you said everyone is okay but, how is everyone?”

Junhui is silent for a second as he tries to take stock of the situation and for a second Wonwoo fears the worst. “Everyone is okay,” Junhui says finally, and Wonwoo relaxes. “Physically anyway. Emotionally, they’re a bit like you right now.”

Wonwoo immediately sits up, startling Junhui who has to jerk backwards to avoid getting hit in the face. “Mingyu,” he says, and a faceless Mingyu flashes through his mind which has him groaning as he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes in a vain attempt to get the image out. Guilt floods through him because, while he’d had Junhui, Mingyu probably came to with no one there to help him. “I’m sorry,” he says to Junhui. “I need to check on him.”

Junhui offers him a smile but it is tinged with something. Not jealousy but something else, something that rests uncomfortably against his mind. “You should. And, uh, I think you might need to talk to him.”

“Why?” Wonwoo asks, immediately worried as he clutches at Junhui’s hand. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Junhui sighs and that expression returns, something in between worry and sadness. Wonwoo just can’t tell if it’s for himself or for someone else. “While you were seeing whatever it is that you were seeing,” Junhui starts and then, to Wonwoo’s surprise, blushes lightly. “You called for me.” That has heat rushing to Wonwoo’s face too but when he tries to look away, Junhui reaches for him and guides him back so that he meets Junhui’s eyes. “You called out for me. But he called out for _you_. I know you said whatever you have between you two isn’t _that_ but are you sure he feels the same way?”

Wonwoo falters, the yes dying on his tongue because while they’d reassured each other over and over again, Junhui’s words has him thinking about the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Mingyu hadn’t been entirely truthful. He doubts it though, because they know each other better than they know themselves, and Mingyu is quite possibly the worst liar he has ever met, but something about Junhui’s words nags at him anyway. They prick at the corners of his mind and suddenly he isn’t sure of what he knows anymore. He nods to Junhui, reaches for him tentatively and, thankfully, Junhui gets the hint, leaning in to press their lips together. It isn’t deep but it is sure and Wonwoo holds onto that feeling even as they break away and he makes his way down to the main deck.

Mingyu is still tied to the main mast and completely slumped over the ropes when Wonwoo gets there and runs to him, heart racing. He collapses on the ground beside him, uncaring of the splinters that litter it.

“Oh gods. Mingyu,” he whispers, reaching for him gently, remembering how terrified he’d been when Junhui had tried to approach him. Mingyu lifts his head up slowly but his eyes are still clouded over and Wonwoo freezes, unsure of what to do. “Mingyu,” he says again, softer but firmer and Mingyu lets out a little whimper that has Wonwoo throwing all sense of caution to the wind. He reaches for the large blade he knows Mingyu carries on him and uses it to cut through the ropes holding Mingyu up.

Mingyu tilts forward and Wonwoo catches him, easing him into Wonwoo’s arms slowly. Mingyu blinks slowly up at him slowly, the fog finally lifting from his eyes and Wonwoo lifts a hand to press a thumb to his tear-stained cheeks. “Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks, voice trembling as he looks at Wonwoo like he’s not sure that Wonwoo is really there. “Is that you? Please tell me that’s you.”

Wonwoo’s heart breaks then, at the fear and uncertainty in Mingyu’s voice, and he leans over to press his forehead against Mingyu’s. “It’s me,” he whispers as thumbs gently over the curve of Mingyu’s cheek, over his jaw, small touches to remind Mingyu that this is real and that whatever he saw wasn’t. “It’s me. I’m here.”

Mingyu lets out a broken sob and buries his face in Wonwoo’s neck, tears soaking into the collar of Wonwoo’s shirt. “Wonwoo,” he cries and Wonwoo presses him closer, runs fingers through Mingyu’s hair until the sobs finally die down and Mingyu’s breathing steadies. His grip is vicelike and Wonwoo is almost afraid to ask Mingyu about what he’d seen. As it turns out, he doesn’t have to because Mingyu brings it up, mutters it so softly into the skin of Wonwoo’s neck that he almost misses it at first. “You hated me,” he whispers softly, sniffling, his grip on Wonwoo tightening slightly. “You hated me, and you left me. You got on a boat, and you left me all alone and I tried to go after you.” He sniffs, and Wonwoo brushes the hair and the tears out his face. “I tried to go after you, but I couldn’t and then somehow I found you. Found your ship. But I was too late, and you were dead. Oh gods,” he breathes, voice cracking on a fresh wave of sobs and Wonwoo’s heart cracks along with it. “I thought you died, Woo. I thought you left me and you died.”

“Oh, Gyu,” he breathes, his own voice breaking too as he presses his lips to Mingyu’s head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that but I’m here. I promise I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Mingyu sniffles but he pulls away and the look on his face has Wonwoo’s heart breaking all over again. “But you will,” he says sadly. “You’ve found him. You don’t need me anymore.”

Wonwoo sighs, reaching for him and pulling him close until their foreheads touch and he can see every single tear as it falls from Mingyu’s eyes. He cups Mingyu’s face, thumbs gently stroking at his cheeks until Mingyu looks at him too. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re my best friend and my fiance, I will never leave you. I could never leave you because how could I leave a part of myself?”

Mingyu chokes out a sob and Wonwoo hushes him, pressing their lips together, gentle, chaste. Not like the kisses he shares with Junhui, those are different and he feels it in the very fibre of his being. But Mingyu is also his, and he knows this too. He just hopes Mingyu knows it as well. It takes a second but Mingyu kisses him back, slowly, hesitantly, but he does, pressing their lips together briefly before pulling away. “I love you,” he breathes into the space between them and Mingyu hiccups another small sob, tears falling even more.

“And I love you.” It isn’t love like _that_ , and he knows it, should never have questioned it. Theirs is a love cultivated through the decades of knowing each other, of growing up with each other, of just being with each other. It isn’t that kind of love but it is love all the same, and there is a part of his heart that he knows will always belong to Mingyu. That brings a smile to Wonwoo’s lips, and he presses another kiss to his nose before pulling Mingyu back into his arms, and Mingyu goes willingly, settling snugly between his legs until his head is pillowed against Wonwoo’s shoulder and Wonwoo’s arms around his waist.

They are silent for a while, allowing themselves to just be with each other. Wonwoo’s fingers are back in Mingyu’s hair, a gesture he knows helps to relax Mingyu, and Mingyu’s fingers trace shapes into Wonwoo’s thighs absently. They remain in their little bubble, oblivious to everything else around them. Neither of them say anything, and that in itself says everything.

Mingyu breaks the silent first, turning slightly so that he isn’t speaking into Wonwoo’s shoulder and Wonwoo can feel the ghost of his breath against his neck. “Woo?” He asks softly. “What did you see?”

Wonwoo’s hands still in Mingyu’s hair and he hesitates, almost considers not talking about it, but it is Mingyu and then there is no question. He takes a deep breath, his hand falling to the nape of Mingyu’s neck and Mingyu gives his thigh a reassuring squeeze. He squeezes his eyes shut, gathering everything he has so that he can release it all. Chan’s body flashes in his mind again and he tenses, fingers clenching around the back of Mingyu’s neck before he finally lets it all go.

“Channie,” he breathes. His breath hitches slightly but his voice remains steady. Mingyu stills in his arms and Wonwoo knows that Mingyu is looking up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. And then he gives up, choosing to curl even more around Wonwoo, almost like a shield, like he is trying to protect Wonwoo. He circles his arms around Wonwoo’s waist squeezing gently and Wonwoo sighs. “He died, Gyu. And it was my fault. He took a-” his voice breaks and he takes a breath. “He took the noose meant for me. My crown. I can’t- I can’t do that to him.”

Mingyu tenses in his arms before pulling away, just enough so that he can look Wonwoo in the eye. “Does this mean you’re going back?”

“I have to,” Wonwoo breathes and this time the tremor in his voice is audible. “I can’t let him take up the mantle meant for me. It will kill him. I won’t. I can’t.” Wonwoo looks at Mingyu then, really looks at him, at the lack of surprise in his expression. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you? You knew that I would go back eventually.”

Mingyu smiles and it comes out small and just sad enough that Wonwoo feels something in his chest cave. “Of course. I know you, Woo. You would never leave Chan. Not permanently. Not with your parents.”

Wonwoo looks away, looks down, his hands clenching around nothing. “I’m afraid, Gyu.”

Mingyu reaches for him then, his large hands deceptively gentle as he brushes his thumb against the curve of his cheek before tilting his head until he is forced to look at Mingyu. “I know. But you shouldn’t be. You’ll have me, and now you have Junhui too.”

At the mention of Junhui, Wonwoo lets out another sigh. “I saw Junhui too.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, curious, and Wonwoo tells him everything — what Junhui had said, how he had looked, even about the vision he’d had of the crew, which still sends waves of fear coursing through him. Halfway through, Wonwoo reaches for him, and Mingyu doesn’t let go.

When he is done, Mingyu is looking at him with an indescribable expression — an amalgamation of confusion and understanding, and maybe just a lick of sympathy. Their hands are still entwined and Mingyu traces circles on the back of Wonwoo’s hand with his thumb as he tries to digest everything Wonwoo has just told him.

“So,” he begins, brows furrowing slightly. “What you feel — felt — for Junhui. Do you think it’s not real?”

Wonwoo sighs. “I don’t know, Gyu. Back then, I’d thought it was real but then after he left, I thought it about it and I just, I don’t know? Could it have _not_ been real?”

Mingyu hums, contemplative as he plays with Wonwoo’s fingers absently. “And how do you feel now? Do you still feel the same?”

“I- I don’t know,” he says, head drooping dejectedly. “I don’t know what I feel, now. But I know that as much as you have a space in my heart, there is one for him, and it will always be there, you know? I just, I don’t know if he carved it himself or if the Song carved it for him. If I’m still holding on to feelings that were never really there in the first place.” He squeezes Mingyu’s hand and looks up, afraid that he will find judgement on Mingyu’s face but there is nothing but love, and it makes him feel even worse.

“I think,” Mingyu begins, scooting closer. “I think you are afraid. I think Junhui, all those years ago, made you feel something you weren’t familiar with, and when he left he took the surety of it away from you. It wasn’t lust you felt then, was it?” Wonwoo flushes, trying to think if he’d wanted more than just time with Junhui back then but he shakes his head anyway. “The Song, the ones they sing when they feed is only meant to stir up feelings of physical attraction, whatever happens here,” he stops to place a palm over Wonwoo’s chest, and Wonwoo’s breath catches in his throat. “That is all him, or you, or both you.” Mingyu smiles sheepishly and Wonwoo can’t help but let out a small laugh.

“You’re ridiculous” Wonwoo huffs, lips already quirking into a smile.

Mingyu grins. “But I’m right.”

“Gods, I hate it when that happens,” Wonwoo shoots back, teasing, and Mingyu laughs, genuine and happy and the knot in Wonwoo’s chest uncoils slightly.

“But,” Mingyu continues and Wonwoo is brought back down to Earth by the wait of that single word, smile slipping slightly. “I think you need to tell him, Woo. Not about your feelings if you haven’t yet figured it out. But you need to tell him about us. Especially if you’re planning on going back.”

The smile disappears completely and he looks away. “I know.”

“Hey,” Mingyu says, reaching to bring Wonwoo’s head back to him. “You know I won’t stop you. Getting married is part of who we have to be, who we end up falling in love with is another matter entirely.”

“I’m not,” Wonwoo splutters. “I’m not in love with him.”

“Are you sure?” Mingyu grins, cheeky and Wonwoo pinches him lightly.

“I’m still… figuring it out. Besides, I don’t even know how he feels.”

“You slept with him, I think you know what that means,” Mingyu snorts and Wonwoo slaps him across the shoulder.

“I sleep with you too, I don’t think that’s a good indicator of anything” Wonwoo hisses.

Mingyu pouts, rubbing his shoulder. “Fine. You have a point there. But, for what it’s worth, I see how he looks at you. I think whatever you’re feeling, it’s mutual. Just,” he holds up a finger to stop Wonwoo from interrupting. “Talk to him, okay? This is important to you and, regardless of how you feel right now, I know he is important to you too.”

Wonwoo sighs. “Fine. If- If anything happens, you’ll be there for me, right?” He hates how small he sounds, how vulnerable, but he just needs to be sure.

Mingyu smiles, finally pushing himself off the damp floor of the deck, and extends a hand to Wonwoo. “Always.”

Wonwoo leaves Mingyu then to check on the rest of the crew. The deck is a mess (again), although, not in as much of one as it had been after Titan’s Wrath. Everyone is on board this time, too, which is a load of Wonwoo’s chest when he does a quick count of everyone. Seokmin and Vernon are still tied to the bottom of the foremast, how Vernon had managed to make it down the crow’s nest without breaking anything still a mystery but Wonwoo is thankful in any case. They both look exhausted, Seokmin’s eyes are so swollen and the tear tracks look like they’ve been carved into his face, but Jihoon is there and Vernon has an arm around him so Wonwoo thinks he will be fine. If any of their visions were like his, they wouldn’t want to talk about it anyway.

Soonyoung is already untied and seated with Minghao on a barrel in the corner of the ship. He still looks to be in some kind of daze and there are rope burn marks around his arms to match the ones on Wonwoo’s. Minghao is saying something to him but Soonyoung seems to still be unresponsive and that has him immediately walking over to them.

He approaches slowly, cautious and, since Soonyoung isn’t very aware, looks to Minghao for permission. When Minghao nods, he closes the distance, coming to crouch in front of Soonyoung. He places a careful hand on Soonyoung’s knee but other than a slight twitch, he gets nothing else from him. He turns to Minghao only to find his concern already mirrored on Minghao’s face. Frowning, he squeezes Soonyoung’s knee again. Still nothing.

“Soon,” he whispers. “Hey, Soonyoung, are you in there? You’re okay now. We’re all okay. Come back, hm?” He gets nothing and he looks to Minghao, worried.

“He’s been like that since we left the mist,” Minghao says softly. “He was lucid for all of two minutes when we untied him, that’s why he’s here. But after that, nothing.”

“He didn’t say anything?” Wonwoo asks, reaching to brush the hair out of Soonyoung’s face so that he can look at him closer.

Minghao shakes his head, and it is only then that Wonwoo realises that for all that they were sitting so closely, Minghao hasn’t tried to touch Soonyoung. “He just stood up, and I was so afraid he was going to try and jump overboard, but he just sat himself on the barrel and hasn’t moved since.” He looks at Wonwoo then, hands clenching where they rest in his lap. “I’m scared.”

This is more emotion than he expected from Minghao who, he assumed, had just been feeding from Soonyoung. It looks like it had been more than that. He can’t help the wry smile that tugs at his lips. Love is a fickle thing, and the Fates sure seem to be having a lot of fun with her.

He places a hand over Minghao’s, patting it gently. “It’s normal to be but he will be fine, I think. You just have to give him some time. I think, in a way, we were forced to live out our greatest fears. I don’t think that’s an easy thing to live through.”

Minghao frowns, and Wonwoo realises he’s never seen Minghao this vulnerable in all the times he’s been on the ship. It is so new, and Wonwoo feels like he’s been trapped in completely unfamiliar territory. “I heard you,” Minghao says, after a beat. “Calling for Junnie. I don’t want to know what you saw but, I have to ask, are you in love with him?”

Wonwoo sighs, because while it isn’t unexpected for Minghao to ask, he didn’t think he would have to face that question again. Not when he’s still reeling from the aftermath of his own visions, not when the Junhui he’d seen still taunts him in his mind. But he understands Minghao’s worry because if it had been Mingyu, he would be doing the same. “I don’t know,” is what he decides on in the end, because Minghao deserves an honest answer. “Are you? With Soonyoung?”

Minghao looks at Soonyoung and the way his gaze immediately softens tells Wonwoo all he needs to know. “I don’t know,” he answers in the end.

“But you could be.” It isn’t a question.

“But I could be.”

Wonwoo gives Minghao’s knee another encouraging pat before standing up. “I think… He’d like it if you held him. Just be gentle.”

Minghao looks back at Soonyoung before returning his gaze to Wonwoo. “You think it will be okay?”

Wonwoo thinks about how Junhui had held him when he was coming to, and how he held Mingyu in turn before he nods. “I think it will help.” He offers Minghao a small smile. “Look after him okay?”

“I will.”

Wonwoo leaves them knowing that Soonyoung is in the best hands he could possibly be in, although he does ask Jihoon to take a look at him once he’s done with Vernon and Seokmin. He doesn’t even need to worry about Seungcheol; Joshua had been with him start to end, even now he has him, both of them with their backs against the main mast, Seungcheol’s head on Joshua’s shoulder as he speaks. His eyes are red as well, though, and confirming that none of them made it out of Poseidon’s Hall unscathed. And if the way they look is anything to go by, Wonwoo is sure these are scars they will carry with them for a long time to come.

Wonwoo can’t stop the smile that pulls at his lips when Joshua takes Seungcheol’s hand and Seungcheol smiles like it is the best thing he’s ever experienced, right before he buries his face in Joshua’s shoulder out of embarrassment. It sets something alight in him that his men, who hadn’t trusted any of the sirens before this, have found companionship in a way he’s never seen them find before. Not in the last ten years at least. The spark in him burns brighter, banishing the darkness of the Halls from his mind, and for the first time in a long time, he finally dares to hope.

»»————-————-««

When he finally gets back to Junhui after settling everyone back in their rooms and getting Jihoon to heal the more serious of their injuries, it is already dark. He wasn’t expecting Junhui to still be on board, not when they’d dropped anchor for the night, but he is, and Wonwoo finds him perched precariously on the bowsprit, his feet dangling over the edge of it. The moonlight casts a silvery light over him, making his hair shine and his skin glow. He hears Wonwoo coming up to him on the deck and he turns, eyes sparkling and Wonwoo thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

Junhui waves him over but Wonwoo hesitates, his steps faltering on the deck because if Wonwoo was being honest, he had been hoping that Junhui would choose to retire to the water, especially considering that all the sirens have spent an inordinate amount of time on the boat today. Of course, if he was being _really_ honest with himself, he was just hoping he wouldn’t have to talk to Junhui today. But he knows that the sooner he gets this off his chest, the better it will be for everyone.

Instead of joining Junhui, though, he gestures for Junhui to join back on deck. Junhui cocks his head slightly, questioning, but he lithely steps back down onto the main deck anyway. He takes the hand Wonwoo offers and threads their fingers together like it’s something they’ve been doing all their lives. It has Wonwoo’s heart stuttering slightly and he has to take a breath in an attempt to calm himself.

“Where are we going?” Junhui asks, quiet but inquisitive, the same curiosity he’s always had not dulled in the slightest. It has a smile tugging on Wonwoo’s lips and he points above them to the crow’s nest. It seems to be the better decision because Junhui’s eyes light up with such blatant wonder and excitement that Wonwoo has to remind himself that this is probably the first time Junhui’s ever been that high above sea level. Junhui’s excitement is contagious, though, and Wonwoo finds himself smiling as they make their way up to it.

The crow’s nest itself is like a large wooden bowl attached to the main mast except it’s walls have gaps in them so that whoever is in it can look out over the ocean as well as down onto the deck. The floor of the crow’s nest itself is only wide enough in radius for Wonwoo to sit with his legs completely extended if he is leaning against the main mast. But that is not what he wants them to do anyway.

Instead, he pulls Junhui down to the ground so that they are lying on their backs and he sticks his legs out through the gaps in the low wall that surrounds the crow’s nest itself so that they are dangling above the deck. Junhui follows suit and they lie there for a while in the silence of the night, nothing but the moon and the stars as their witness. Junhui’s hand is cool in his and he brings it to his lips just once before he brings it down to his stomach.

Junhui doesn’t say anything but Wonwoo can feel his eyes on him, and he knows Junhui wants to ask because the air has been thick with something like apprehension ever since Wonwoo had taken his hand. And Junhui is nothing if not perceptive, even if sirens are blessed with extreme sensitivity to human emotions. He knows Junhui is dying to ask too, someone like him who is so curious, the wait must be killing him. But Wonwoo is nervous, more so than he’d been the day Junhui had reappeared and begged for their help and he feels like if he opens his mouth to speak he might end up hurling.

Junhui waits, thumb stroking his hand soothingly until Wonwoo manages to gather the last vestiges of his courage. “I need to talk to you,” he says, already breathless because his heart feels like it’s in his throat and he can’t breathe.

“I figured,” Junhui says, and Wonwoo can hear the smile in his voice but he keeps his eyes trained on the stars. “Don’t force yourself, though. I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me anything, and not before you’re ready.”

“I know, but this is…” He takes another breath and Junhui squeezes his hand encouragingly. “This is important because- because you must know that I feel something for you. And I know you feel something for me too, unless… Unless I’ve been reading this wrong and-”

Junhui squeezes his hand and he stops speaking with a sharp intake of breath that comes out like a squeak. “Breathe. And no, you haven’t been reading this wrong. I feel something for you too.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo breathes, not quite believing his ears. He feels like his head is in the clouds, or his head _is_ a cloud. Whichever. He isn’t sure anymore. He only knows that his heart is a jackhammer against his ribs and he feels giddy, and floaty, like the only thing weighing him down is Junhui’s hand in his. It is his tether and he focuses on that. Tries to gather his thoughts. “Okay. You feel something for me?”

Junhui lets out a small laugh, and Wonwoo turns to him, unable to stop himself, only to find Junhui already watching him, eyes sparkling with mirth and what Wonwoo is starting to recognise as fondness. “Yes, I do. But that isn’t all this is about is it?”

“No,” Wonwoo says, his breath catching as he fiddles with Junhui’s fingers nervously. “I-” He starts, stops. Rewinds. And then decides he might as well bite the bullet because if it is going to hurt then he’d rather it be quick. “I’m betrothed.”

Junhui stills, and Wonwoo looks away unable to meet the gaze Junhui is directing at him. “You’re what?”

“I’m getting married, Jun. I will have to get married.”

Junhui recoils, his hand slipping out of Wonwoo’s grasp as he sits up and Wonwoo feels a part of his heart start to crack but he doesn’t chase him. “What do you mean you’re getting married? You’re a pirate. Why would you…”

Wonwoo sits up too, bringing his legs back in to bring them to his chest like they can stop the pain from reaching him, somehow. “You know who I am, Jun,” Wonwoo responds with a heavy sigh. “We met on the beaches of my estate, you must know.”

“But you’re not there now. You’re here. You don’t need to.” There’s a broken kind of desperation in Junhui’s voice that has Wonwoo’s heart feeling like it’s being ripped apart.

“I have to go back. Just now, in Poseidon’s Halls, I saw my brother die because I chose to run away from my responsibility. I can’t do that to him.”

Junhui looks down as he plucks nervously at his fingers. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t know.”

Wonwoo leans forward to take Junhui’s hand, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when Junhui doesn’t pull away. “Don’t apologise. You couldn’t have known. But, I’m telling you this because I want you to know that this doesn’t — this _won’t_ — change the way I feel about you.”

Junhui squeezes his hand in quiet reciprocation. “But you will still be married to someone else. You won’t- We won’t be able to be together.”

Wonwoo takes a breath, decides he might as well pull the trigger on the last bullet as well. “We will, I promise. This won’t change anything. My fiance, my betrothed,” he takes another breath for good measure. “It’s Mingyu. But he understands, I promise. We agreed early on that the marriage would be political, and that was that. We promised we wouldn’t get involved in each other’s love lives.”

“Of course it’s Mingyu,” Junhui says, bitterness tingeing his words just enough for Wonwoo to pick up on it.

“Are you upset?” Wonwoo asks tentatively, tugging at Junhui’s hand lightly. “Please don’t be upset.”

Junhui sighs and he tries to pull his hand away from Wonwoo, but Wonwoo holds on fast. He’s not letting go of Junhui this time. Junhui glares at him but doesn’t try to pull away again, and Wonwoo knows that this is the best he is going to get. “Of course I’m upset, Wonwoo. You would be too if you found out the person you had feelings for had to marry someone else.”

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says quietly. “It’s not like I have a say in the matter.”

“And that just makes it worse,” Junhui answers, giving Wonwoo’s hand a squeeze. A breeze picks up around them, bringing residual cold from the Halls over them, and Wonwoo shivers slightly. “What if you fall in love with him?”

That has Wonwoo letting out a puff of laughter. “Junhui, I’ve known him for most of my life, I’ve been stuck on a ship with him for almost a decade, even slept with him on a couple of occasions. If I’m not in love with him now, I won’t be. And it’s the same for him too. Besides, it’s been almost ten years since I last saw you and I don’t think a day has passed that I never thought of you. I don’t think that will ever change.” Wonwoo’s cheeks burn with the confession but he holds onto Junhui’s hand tighter in the hopes that Junhui knows he’s being honest.

“Really?” Junhui’s voice is small, shy, and Wonwoo can see, with the help of the moonlight, Junhui’s cheeks dusting a light rosy pink.

“Yeah,” he edges himself closer, just enough that he is kneeling in front of Junhui. He reaches for him, cups his face gently, thumb tracing along the edges of it. “I don’t think I could ever want anyone else.”

Junhui’s eyes darken, midnight blue blaze turning into a smouldering obsidian as he clutches at Wonwoo’s wrists. “You want me?” He asks, voice so low it sends a shiver running down Wonwoo’s spine.

“Yes,” he breathes and Junhui surges up to kiss him. It knocks the breath out of him and they both go tumbling down until Wonwoo is lying on top of Junhui, who is gazing at him with eyes so dark it sends heat straight into his gut. He wastes no time in recapturing Junhui’s lips, nipping at Junhui’s bottom lip lightly until Junhui gasps, allowing him to lick into him. The taste of Junhui on his tongue is heady and he presses them deeper, neither of them caring about the hardwood floor beneath them. There is nothing except the press of their bodies against each other, the taste of each other on their tongue, and the heat that seems to light him up from inside. Wonwoo is burning and Junhui is the spark that sets him alight.

He tugs at Junhui’s hair and Junhui presses bruises into his skin as they allow themselves to take advantage of the fact that they are alone out here, nothing but the sea, the moon and stars to witness them. They don’t take it all the way — they know their limits after all — but Wonwoo thinks that it is enough to just be with Junhui like this. To press his lips against his neck, to suck bruises into his skin that will remain there for days, to _hear_ Junhui and the pretty noises he makes when he finally lets go.

It is enough when they finally break apart, lips bruised and swollen, and he can still taste Junhui on his tongue. It is enough when they lie there underneath their blanket of stars, exhausted and yet content, Wonwoo’s head pillowed on his shoulder and his hand on Junhui’s heart. They don’t say it, the thing they see when they look into each other’s eyes, but Wonwoo recognises it, sees it in himself. They don’t say it, because they can’t. Not yet.

What he can do is take Junhui’s hand in his, presses his palm to his lips before resting it over Junhui’s heart, where he can feel it still racing beneath his skin. “We’ll make it work,” he whispers into the night and the scant space between them. “If you still want to.”

And Junhui says the one thing he’s been waiting to hear all night as he presses his lips against Wonwoo’s forehead.

“Okay.”

»»————-————-««

It takes a few days for everyone to get themselves back on their feet again, especially since many of them, while technically could be considered recovered, were still suffering the occasional aftershocks of their journey through Poseidon’s Halls. Soonyoung was probably one of the most affected; he remained silent for days following his return to lucidity despite several attempts from Wonwoo and the crew to engage him in conversation. Wonwoo never thought that he would be so thankful, he seemed to be the only one able to coax Soonyoung out from whatever wall he’d chosen to hide himself behind.

It was an arduous process, and the few days had felt like months but they eventually came to a decision that they could no longer afford to remain anchored. They _had_ already survived two gates, and if Poseidon’s Hall was said to be the worst then the last one shouldn’t be as much of a challenge. Or so Wonwoo hopes anyway.

They hold one final gathering the night before they are due to hoist anchor. One last time that the ten of them will be gathered in the dinghy little space they like to call their dining hall. Wonwoo can’t help but study them — this motley crew of pirates and sirens — as they file into the space, the humans grabbing rolls of bread and slices of preserved meat and fruit on their way to the table.

It had only been a couple of weeks since Junhui had shown up, desperate and afraid, almost on the verge of begging for their help (he says verge because Junhui would never beg but it had come pretty close), but already so much has changed since then. The hostility that had saturated the air during their first meeting is completely gone, replaced by a different kind of tension altogether, one that Wonwoo has explicitly chosen not to address. Ever. At least not with Seungcheol, who still remains touchy about the subject despite remaining glued to Joshua’s side ever since he’d saved his life.

Soonyoung and Minghao are a whole other matter, one that he would rather not touch with a ten-foot pole. They both look a lot happier, though; Soonyoung is speaking again and Minghao is looking in much better shape than the haggard, sunken appearance he’d had when they’d first met.

The contrast is stark when he thinks about that first night, and a part of him still cannot truly believe that they have gotten this far, both on the journey and with each other. It has a pleasant warmth blossoming in his chest when he watches them and he can’t help the smile that forms on his face along with it.

“Who would have thought, huh?” Junhui says quietly, coming up beside him. Wonwoo watches as Mingyu steals a piece of fruit from Seokmin’s plate just as Jihoon steals another, and he breathes out a low laugh.

“Not me.” He turns to find Junhui watching the scene before them too, a small amused smile pulling at his own lips. “Honestly, I thought I would have had to stop my men from attempting to kill you. I never thought, well…” He trails off and Junhui lets out a peal of laughter, bright and pretty, waves crashing onto a shore and Wonwoo falls just a little bit harder.

“Yeah,” Junhui replies and Wonwoo really wants to take his hand but they have a meeting to conduct and Mingyu will never let him live it down if he actually sees how soft Wonwoo becomes when he’s around Junhui.

Instead, he moves closer so that he and Junhui are both standing at the head of the long table, unofficial representatives of their races, and the chatter slowly dies down. “So,” he begins. “We are on the last leg of our journey now. According to the sirens, we will reach the next gate — something called the Ocean’s Graveyard — by nightfall tomorrow if we are blessed with good winds. Since we don’t know what to expect for this one as well, I want us all to be tethered to the ship the minute we enter it. Whatever it is.”

There are nods, but Soonyoung frowns. He places the roll he was bringing to his mouth back down to the plate in front of him. “If we don’t know what it is, how will we know that we’re there?”

Wonwoo thinks back to the other two Gates, to the way they’d been able to spot them a mile a way, even without knowing what they were getting themselves into as was the case with Poseidon’s Halls. “I’m sure we will know. But, hey, this one isn’t supposed to be as bad as Poseidon’s Halls, so we should make it through okay. For all we know, Ocean’s Graveyard is just a large patch of sea full of sunken vessels we have to navigate through. Or maybe it is just like the first gate.”

The Ocean’s Graveyard is most definitely _not_ like the first gate. Not at all. They come upon it, as predicted, just as the sun dips below the horizon and the perpetually full moon rises above them, throwing them all in silvery light. No, the Ocean’s Graveyard isn’t a torrent of waves and rocks, and it isn’t a badlands of half sunken vessels and traps. The Ocean’s Graveyard is a sinkhole.

There is nothing else to it, no thunder, no lightning, no rush of cold or ten foot waves, just a giant hole in the middle of the ocean. It is a circle of complete and utter blackness, one that has Vernon yelling a warning from almost a mile out, and Wonwoo immediately calls for them to drop anchor.

They gather in the middle of the main deck as Vernon confirms that it is what it is even though there is no need to. It is so big that they can see it from the main deck just fine, and a part of Wonwoo can’t help but wonder how many ships it can swallow at one time, because that’s really what it is: a giant mouth in the middle of the ocean that swallows ships and spits them back at the bottom. He thinks about how many ships might be under there, crushed and broken under thousands of feet of water. How many people have died? He shivers. The Ocean’s Graveyard indeed.

“What do you think we’re supposed to do?” Vernon asks as he dismounts from the nets that lead up to the crow’s nest. “Do you think we’re supposed to survive it? Go around it? Or… there’s no way we’re supposed to just let it take us under. Right?” His gaze is wide and the fear in it is mirrored in the eyes of everyone as they look to Wonwoo for guidance he doesn’t know he can give.

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo answers truthfully. “But there is no way we are coming back out if we get sucked into it, you know that right.”

“You will come out.” Wonwoo whirls towards the voice to find Jihoon approaching them flanked by both Joshua and Junhui, Minghao probably still in the water. It is times like this that he is reminded just how old Jihoon is, when he speaks and he carries the weight of ages in his voice. “The Ocean’s Graveyard is the last gate but it is also the doorway, if you make it through, you will be at Calypso.”

“ _If_ we make it through?” Suddenly realisation hits him and he turns to Junhui. “You knew?! You knew this was the final gate all along and you never told us. Why?”

Junhui flinches under the intensity of his voice but at least he has the decency to look ashamed. “We were afraid you would have changed your minds.”

Anger flares in him and he takes a step towards the sirens. “And it would have been our right to! You’re sending us to our deaths.”

“No! You won’t die, I promise. _We_ promise.”

“How?” Wonwoo snaps, and all three of the sirens flinch. “How can you promise that? We will crash into the bottom and the ocean will swallow us whole. There is no surviving this.” He looks at Junhui and his heart wavers at the look on his face but he remains resolute because this isn’t about him. “You lied to us.”

“We were desperate and we were afraid! You were only hope. The lives our entire race were on the line. Can you really fault us for that?” Junhui is yelling now too as Jihoon and Joshua watch in slight apprehension.

“Yes! Yes I can! Because now the lives of my men, my _friends_ , are on the line. You robbed them of the no that could have saved their lives by not telling us about this.”

“And it would have cost us our own!”

Wonwoo recoils, hurt and something a lot like disgust apparent on his face. “I didn’t know you were so selfish.”

“No, Wonwoo,” Junhui reaches for him but he jerks out of the way. “No, I swear we can keep you safe, we just couldn’t risk you.” He looks up and Wonwoo can see the tears already starting to well in his eyes but he looks past it, past the defeated look on Junhui’s face. “Would you still have said yes? If you had known?”

This comes out so small, like an afterthought that Wonwoo almost misses it. He gapes at Junhui, just for a second because that is how long it takes for him to arrive at an answer. “Of course!” He’s still yelling, and it still comes out angry but he knows that he would have done, would still do, anything for Junhui because that is how it is for them. Junhui had sunk his claws deep into Wonwoo the minute he said that first word to him at the beach, and the minute their hands had touched, it was already over him. He didn’t know it then, but he knows it now, hindsight being perfect and all that. “Of course I would have,” this time he’s softer but no less frustrated. He wants to reach for Junhui, shake him a little. Instead, he keeps his fists clenched tight at his sides. “You _know_ I would have. But my men, you should have given them the choice.”

“Wonwoo.” He’d been expecting Mingyu to step in at some point but it isn’t Mingyu. It’s Seungcheol who comes up beside him and places a hand on his shoulder. “I know we were against this in the beginning.” He says softly. “But if you had gone, we would have gone too. You’re our Captain _and_ our friend, our family. We go wherever you go.”

A wave of guilt washes over him at Seungcheol’s words and he swallows the bitterness that comes with it. He turns to Seungcheol, placing a hand over Seungcheol’s where it rests on Wonwoo’s shoulder. “You should have had the choice anyway,” he says and he hates the way his voice is trembling slightly.

Seungcheol smiles, strong and reassuring. “And we would have chosen you. Besides, the other gates could have killed us just as much as this one. And the only reason we’ve made it this far is because we trusted them.” He nods towards the sirens, who have been standing stock still as they watch the entire exchange. “We only need to trust them one more time.”

Wonwoo sighs, but he knows Seungcheol is right. They’ve made it too far to turn back now, and the sirens haven’t gone back on their promise to keep them safe yet. He looks at Seungcheol and he can see the scars from where he’d hit the rocks at Titan’s Wrath, mostly healed now, but still there and just visible under the neck of his shirt. A reminder that Seungcheol wouldn’t be here now if it hadn’t been for Joshua and Jihoon.

He turns back to Junhui, who had been watching them nervously. “Okay. We’ll trust you this time but I want to know exactly how you intend to keep your promise. This isn’t going to be as simple as just tying us to the masts because I don’t know if the ship will survive the fall.”

Junhui looks back at Jihoon, who nods once before gesturing for Junhui to answer. “The ship will survive, and you will survive as long as you are still on it when you reach the end of it. So, you will have to be tethered, yes. But, we’ve also called on more of the sirens to be standby in case some don't make it with the ship.”

“In case we what?”

Junhui closes his eyes and lets out a breath, an attempt to calm himself before speaking. “In case some of the tethers snap. The sinkhole works in a way that the ocean will take you the minute you are not connected to your ship. The sirens will save you, if that happens.”

Wonwoo swallows, looking back at his men who have different stages of fear and anxiety written on their faces, and he the feeling of guilt rises within him again. “You will be able to save them, right?”

“As far as we know.” It is Jihoon who answers this time, stepping forward with Joshua who walks past Wonwoo to stand on Seungcheol’s other side. “Just know we will do the best we can with what we have. We are already heavily indebted to you for making this trip for us, it wouldn’t be fair for us to do otherwise.”

That’s the best Wonwoo can expect, he figures. They are all out of their leagues here and none of them have any way of knowing if they will make it out alive or not. He says a silent prayer to the gods, reaffirming the promise he’d made at the start of the journey — that should any one of his crew die, they will go to Elysium in exchange for his own life. Seungcheol gives his shoulder a squeeze and he wills himself to relax.

“Okay. Thank you. I guess we should prepare ourselves then. Men,” he says, turning to the rest of the crew who snap to attention at the address. “Please make sure your tethers are secured this time. I’m not losing any more of you.”

They nod solemnly before breaking away to go get themselves settled. He meets Mingyu’s gaze as the group disperses and he jerks his head towards Junhui before heading over to the main mast where his tether is. Wonwoo sighs. He loves Mingyu but sometimes he really just hates him.

He turns to Junhui, who hasn’t moved at all, head still hanging low — a perfect picture of chastisement that has Wonwoo’s heart softening just a bit. “Hey,” he says, and Junhui looks up at him, wary, as if Wonwoo is going to lash out at him again. That is what truly breaks Wonwoo and he makes a silent vow to never be the reason for Junhui to look like that again. He reaches for Junhui, pulling him into an embrace, heart singing when Junhui sinks into it, his arms coming to wrap around Wonwoo’s waist as he buries his face in Wonwoo’s chest. “I’m sorry I yelled but I am still upset at you though.”

Junhui sighs into Wonwoo’s skin before pulling away. “I know. And you have every right to be. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You were right, it was selfish of us.”

“It was. Just,” he pauses and Junhui looks at him expectantly. “If anything happens and you have to choose between and one of my men, you will save them.”

Junhui’s eyes grow wide and his arms tighten reflexively around Wonwoo’s waist. “Wonwoo,” he breathes. “You can’t-”

“I can. And I need you to respect it, please. It’s the least I can do for them now.”

“Wonwoo…”

“Jun. Please. I can’t- I can’t do this if I don’t know that I’ve done everything I can for them. You heard them before, they followed me. It is my fault they are here.” Wonwoo clutches at Junhui’s arms before sliding them up to rest on Junhui’s shoulders even though inside it feels like he’s being eaten up at just the thought of anything happening to one of his men. “You have to promise me this.”

“Alright,” Junhui says, pulling them close to rest his forehead against Wonwoo’s. “I promise. But know that they _chose_ to follow you. It is not your fault.”

“But it will be if anything happens,” he whispers.

Junhui doesn’t say anything for a while, doesn’t do anything except trace along the dip of Wonwoo’s spine where his hand is resting. And Wonwoo takes the time to just breathe him in, to take in everything — the way he is looking at Wonwoo now, fire blazing in his deep blue eyes, the slope of his nose, and the way his lips curve so prettily it is taking everything in Wonwoo to not kiss him right there. “You know,” he says softly, his breath ghosting over Wonwoo’s lips carrying the smell of the ocean with it. “I think you will make a great King someday.”

Wonwoo kisses him right there, in full view of everyone, if only to stop the way his heart seems to have jumped into his throat. It doesn’t last more than a second but Wonwoo presses the words that sit on the tip of his tongue onto his lips and prays that Junhui understands. “You can’t-” he says when they break away, Wonwoo glancing around quickly to make sure no one had been looking. “They don’t-” his breath catches in his throat and he doesn’t know if it is fear or the tears that threaten to spill out.

Junhui smiles softly, combing a hand through his hair before stepping away and taking his hand. “I know. Now, come. Let’s get you tethered.”

Relief floods through Wonwoo when he realises that the rest of his crew are in similar states. Seungcheol has Joshua in his arms, despite already being tethered. Soonyoung and Minghao are very unashamedly making out against the foremast and Wonwoo can’t help the snort he lets out as Junhui only shakes his head. Jihoon is with Seokmin and Vernon, Vernon having been tied to the foremast beside Seokmin. Vernon has Seokmin’s hand in his, and Jihoon is speaking to them softly. There is an air of finality that hangs over them, a sense that is _it._ That they either make it out alive or they don’t. It weighs heavily on Wonwoo along with the very subtle undercurrent of fear. Together, it makes him feel simultaneously suffocated and like a live wire, the current running through him just beneath the surface.

Instead of heading to the wheel, where he’s been tethered the previous times, he stops at the main mast. Skirting Joshua and Seungcheol, he moves to the other side to seat himself beside Mingyu, who looks at him in surprise. He says nothing but he does take Mingyu’s hand in his before asking Junhui to tie him up. Thankfully, Junhui seems to understand, and he gives them both a reassuring smile as he sets up the tether. When Junhui is done, Wonwoo instructs him to raise the anchor, knowing that the pull of the sinkhole will be enough to take them to it without his steering.

It is a nerve-wracking experience. The minute the anchor is hoisted back into the ship, it lurches forward, taking them closer and closer to the sinkhole. Junhui stays on the ship to double check everyone and their tethers, while the rest of the sirens return to the water to wait.

They start to hear it after a while, the sound of the water draining into the depths of the sinkhole like a large drain. It is so much louder than the roar of the ocean too and it drowns out almost all other sounds. He squeezes Mingyu’s hand, shifting closer so that they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder.

“Are you afraid?” He asks, voice barely carrying over the rush of the water and Mingyu nods, the grip on his hand tightening. “Me too.”

“Thank you,” Mingyu says suddenly and Wonwoo turns to look at him, as much as he cans within the bounds of the tether anyway. “For not leaving me alone.”

Something in his chest shatters at the thought that Mingyu expected to go through this alone. That he thought Wonwoo would leave him to go through this alone. “I would never.”

They don’t say much after that, mainly because the roaring becomes so loud it is almost deafening. He can feel them pick up speed too, the current pulling them closer and closer to the edge. He holds onto Mingyu’s hand tightly and squeezes his eyes shut, and from out of nowhere Junhui shouts. “Brace yourselves!”

And then they are tipping over, the ropes keeping his firmly affixed to the mast even as the ship goes vertical. He screams, Mingyu screams, they all scream as they pitch forward into darkness.

Except, it isn’t dark. Not exactly.

And they are falling but, not exactly.

Wonwoo knows they are falling because he can still feel his heart in his throat and his stomach in his chest and his body seems to be straining against the ropes, against gravity. And yet. He can see them fall, lights in the water walls of the sinkhole illuminate their descent, casting ghostly blue-green light onto all of them. Except halfway through it stops looking like a descent because the water starts looking like it’s falling… upwards? He doesn’t know, he isn’t sure, he no longer knows which way is up anymore. All he knows is that it is making his head spin and that it is awfully, eerily silent. There is no rush of water, no rush of air around them, there is just nothing except the sound of their breathing.

It is unnerving. He tries to take his mind off it, tries to count the number of little glowing water lights he sees in the sinkhole wall in front of him. Beside him, Mingyu is shaking and squeezing his hand so tight he can no longer feel his fingers but it is evidence that Mingyu is still there and he focuses on that.

At some point, he starts to make out shapes in the water walls surrounding them too. He says water walls but in reality he doesn’t actually know where it is, it just looks like the sinkhole is a giant cylinder reaching all the way into the depths of the ocean and yet also surrounded by ocean on all sides. It is like an invisible wall is holding the ocean back and preventing the water from collapsing into it. It is strange, probably some kind of magic but it makes his head hurt when he tries to think about it.

The shapes turn out to be creatures of some sort, large deep-sea leviathans that are larger than even the largest whale. He sees one that looks like a giant octopus, or squid of some sort, and the another that looks like some kind of shark reptile hybrid. They terrify him but at the same time he can’t look away.

They keep falling for an inordinate amount of time, seconds, months, years, he no longer knows really. He could have died and been reborn, maybe lived a dozen lifetimes in the time they’d been falling. And then it stops, and everything comes rushing back: the sound of the water, the rush of the air tugging at him against the ropes, the feeling of all his organs shooting up into his throat. Then everything goes black and the last thing he hears is the sound of his own screaming.

»»————-————-««

When Wonwoo comes to he finds himself on a shore but not any shore that he’s ever seen. It is dark for one thing, and not dark like the night sky but dark like the way a cave would be dark. It is pitch black overhead, no sky, no stars, just an unsettling never-ending blackness and the only reason he can see it is the lone torch, half-buried in the ash-coloured sand about a couple of yards away.

He is drenched too, half buried in soft, black sand as the waves crash over him up to his waist. The next wave hits, washing over him and lapping at his lower back, and Wonwoo groans. Distantly, he is aware of some part of his mind trying to assess his own body for damages, to see if there is anything beyond the ache in his bones and the throbbing in his head.

Slowly, he lifts his head and he almost cries with relief when he sees Mingyu and Soonyoung further along the beach, just within range of the torchlight. They are nothing more than damp silhouettes in the dim light but he would have recognised them anywhere. They look like they’re still passed out — Wonwoo can see the rise and falls of their chests — so he leaves them be.

He lifts himself up gently on his elbows, careful to not disturb the pain in his head that threatens vertigo, before he turns to his side. He can make out one other figure in the distance, almost out of range of the strange ring of light. His heart sinks. There is no one else on the shore.

Before he can attempt to move again the figure stirs, lifting himself up on his forearms before slamming back into the ground when a wave crashes over him. Even from this distance, Wonwoo can hear the groan he makes as he spits out a mouthful of sand. Seokmin. He tries to tell himself that the rest are somewhere along this strip of sand, maybe separated in the landing. Or the crash. He doesn’t really know what happened past him screaming out the entirety of his left lung.

Gingerly, he pushes himself up into a sitting position, tucking his legs in so that he is just out of reach of the water. He adjusts himself so that he can look out over the black water, but there is no sign of anything — no their ship, nor floating pieces of debris to indicate that their ship was smashed. Nothing. Just deep black sky, over deep black water, no other signs of living things. Behind him, the flame flickers once despite the stillness of the air and a shiver runs down his spine.

He turns to look back at Seokmin to find him sitting up too in a position identical to Wonwoo’s except he is cradling his head in his hands, and Wonwoo’s head gives a sympathetic twinge. Seokmin must feel Wonwoo’s gaze because he looks back, offering a smile that quickly turns into a grimace when he meets Wonwoo’s eyes. Wonwoo wants to speak, wants to tell him to keep the movements of any muscle down to a minimum but his mouth feels like he inhaled a desert, and his lips feel like if he tries to move them they will split right down the middle.

They sit there in the odd blackness, him and Seokmin, saying and doing nothing but most likely trying to will the pain in their heads away. Wonwoo is contemplating putting his head between his knees when there is a shift, a change in the pattern of the waves, something just obvious enough to jar him out of his pain-filled daze. He looks up to find Seokmin looking back at him too, eyes wide.

He looks back at the water and only then does he notice the disturbance, small ripples in the waves that are disrupting the strange monotonous pattern of the waves crashing on the shore. The ripples are far out enough that when figures emerge through it, Wonwoo still can’t make out more than their vague outlines. It is only when they step through that Wonwoo recognises Junhui and Minghao, their faces drawn and brows furrowed as they walk onto the shore — their tales once more transformed into human legs.

His throat is still dry but when he meets Junhui’s eyes he knows Junhui hears him loud and clear. He quickens his pace and has Wonwoo in his arms faster than he can even blink and he melts into the hold, ignoring the way the movement had made his head spin. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around Junhui’s waist and breathes him in, thankful that for all its nothingness this place hasn’t banished Wonwoo’s sense of smell.

He would have stayed longer in Junhui’s arms but there are people that need his attention, so he pushes himself away, ignoring the way his heart twinges at the look on Junhui’s face. He points to Seokmin, and Junhui gets the message, stepping away from Wonwoo to check on him.

Wonwoo turns to check on Soonyoung and Mingyu only to find Soonyoung already conscious, if a bit disgruntled while Minghao tries to get Mingyu to wake up. It is a tough feat, which is just a bit shocking because Mingyu has always been the earlier riser between them. He mumbles a small prayer to the gods for Mingyu to be okay and the light behind him flickers again, and Wonwoo almost gets the sense that it is angry.

The prayer must work though because Mingyu is awake and spluttering within the next minute, clutching onto Minghao as he tries to keep himself upright. He wants to call out to Mingyu too but he knows that if Mingyu reacts to it he will either end up hurling or passing back out again.

Distracted, Wonwoo doesn’t notice Junhui walking back until he almost dumps Seokmin in his lap right before collapsing on the sand beside him. Wonwoo squeezes his hand and Junhui smiles. He turns his attention back to Seokmin who is still sitting in the position he’d been deposited in, still kind of out of it but he smiles when Wonwoo gives his thigh a squeeze, and that’s all Wonwoo could ask for.

Wonwoo doesn’t know how long they sit there but they sit until the swirling ache in his head dissipates enough that he can stand without seeing stars. While they wait, Junhui explains that they are at the entrance to Calypso’s domain and that to find Calypso they simply have to follow the lights. That makes Wonwoo’s head spin even more for a moment because there seems to be only one torch and he sees no Calypso before him.

He still isn’t sure Junhui really knows what he is saying when they can all finally stand and their tongues finally unstick from the roofs of their mouths although Wonwoo still feels like he swallowed a bag of nails.

They walk in two rows towards the torch, which flickers in what Wonwoo hopes is a greeting. Junhui is an unwavering presence on his left, arm looped tightly through Wonwoo’s to steady him while Wonwoo keeps his hand in Mingyu’s to steady him. Behind them, Seokmin has finally returned to Soonyoung’s side while Minghao takes up the other. Wonwoo doesn’t think he’s seen Soonyoung this content in a long, long time.

They reach the torch, which illuminates what looks like a thicket of trees beyond it but there is no other light, no trail of lights for that matter. Wonwoo turns to Junhui in confusion but Junhui just nods at the torch, which flickers once more and then goes out.

Darkness surrounds them for all of a second and Mingyu’s hand tightens around his before the torch reappears a couple of yards ahead of them, in the middle of what seems like a clearing. He exchanges uncertain glances with Junhui and Mingyu but Junhui merely gestures for Wonwoo to keep walking. So, taking a deep breath, he continues.

This continues for a while, the light disappearing and reappearing as it leads them through the grove of trees, through a path so overgrown with leaves and ferns despite the ground still being sand, and then over rocks that are just a bit uncomfortable for Wonwoo to walk over. Eventually, they draw up to what could only be described as some kind of plant-overrun temple — the kind that Wonwoo would have expected ancient civilisations to have.

The temple looks like someone took a giant knife to a pyramid and cut the top right off. The main entrance looks to be able a hundred steps up the old stone staircase that takes up the entirety of the bottom half facing them. It is a massive stone structure and Wonwoo is sure that it would have once looked magnificent but now it looks almost entirely ruined. The entranceway is covered only by a giant curtain while vines and ivy curl around the walls, wrapping themselves around any empty section of stone it can get a good grip on.

Moss and lichen, too, seem to be common features of the temple, something Wonwoo only finds out when he slips on a patch of moss covering the step he had just stepped on. The torch they were following slots itself right back into its holder by the main entrance, and Wonwoo swears that if torches could be smug, it would be smug. The curtain flutters once and Junhui nudges him to get him to start walking.

He doesn’t know if he is more daunted by the number of steps or the fact that he is going to meet the greatest Sea Witch in the world. One that could probably squish him like a bug too if he so much as said the wrong thing but he figures he might as well find out. Quelling the nerves that have begun to bubble up in his belly, he makes his way up the stairs.

They reach the top in what feels like forever and also no time at all, all exhaustion immediately disappearing the minute he sets foot on the landing. The torches in the grates by the entrance flicker ones and the curtain flutters in a way that could almost be considered beckoning. There is a whisper in the air too, one that Wonwoo mistakes for the wind at first before he hears unfamiliar syllables in it, the words wrapping itself around them, curling like vines around his arms and legs.

_Come in._

The voice, spoken more in his mind than in his ear, runs through him, cold and wet, and he shivers against it. He looks to Junhui for some kind of reassurance but neither he nor Mingyu give any indication that they’d heard the voice too. Swallowing past the tightness in his throat and in his chest, he steps out of Junhui’s and Mingyu’s hold, and pushes the curtain open.

The temple isn’t what he was expecting. Where he had been expecting ruins and darkness, a room overrun with vines and plantlife, there is a large gleaming hall. It isn’t opulent in the way that his own home is but the stone is pristine, polished, the vines along the wall have been trimmed and there are torches set into grates on every pillar leading to a giant, alter-like surface at the far end of the hall.

The hall is warm too, and plants hang from the rafters in little pots and what look like bubbles of water. Starfishes hang on the walls like strange versions of paintings, their arms occasionally unsticking as they rotate and reattach themselves. There are crabs too, small white ones that scuttle across the floor in a rush of movement and larger gold and purples ones that flank the middle of the hall, snapping at their ankles occasionally. A particularly large one snaps at him and he flinches so hard he crashes into Junhui who makes a small noise when Wonwoo’s foot lands on his.

A trill of laughter sounds from the front of the hall and they turn to find a man who Wonwoo was sure hadn't been there when they’d first stepped into the temple. There is no doubt who he is, not when he looks at Wonwoo with eyes that are blacker than black and the pupils slightly larger than any normal human’s. His hair too seems to move as if he is standing in some kind of underwater current; the strands drifting back and forth in a way that reminds Wonwoo of stalks of seaweed.

There is something distinctly otherworldly about him, more so than there had been with Junhui, not to mention the strength of the power radiating from him also has Wonwoo wanting to get on his knees. The man smiles at them, teeth sharper than anything he’s ever seen and shining with a pearlescent hue like the underside of the seashells he used to collect as a kid. Beautiful. But terrifyingly so. Beside him he hears Mingyu suck in a breath and the smile on his face grows, just a bit, before he schools it into something less predatory.

“Welcome,” he says, and his voice sounds distinctly watery, smooth like the waves that lap against the surface of their ship when they hit calm waters. He speaks but it also flows around them, settling under his skin and giving him the strange feeling like he is underwater. He smiles prettily before beckoning them closer. “I see you’ve survived passage through the gates. Although, it looks like you are missing a few.” Wonwoo sucks in a breath, hands clenching as he wills himself to not rise to the bait.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), Junhui takes it for him. “We didn’t lose anyone. The ones who are not here are alive, safe on the surface.”

At this the man grins, devilish, the pointed ends of his teeth just visible. “Hmm, I did say missing, not dead, didn’t I?” Junhui opens his mouth to retort but Wonwoo’s hand closes around his wrist and he falls silent with a small huff. “No matter. Since you’ve come all this way, I guess I must introduce myself.” He sounds tired, almost bored, and frustration bubbles up within Wonwoo that he has to fight to quell. The man — god — runs a hand through his pitch black hair, ignoring the way it continues to float in the air behind him after. “I am Calypso. Although, if you made it all the way here, I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. You may, however, call me Jeonghan.” He shoots a wink in Mingyu’s direction and Wonwoo feels him stiffen beside him.

At this, Junhui steps forward, dropping to a knee just before the altar, which Wonwoo is only now noticing is covered in a smattering of trinkets. Bowls of bones and shells take up one end while the other end is covered with cages full of tiny plants and creatures Wonwoo is sure shouldn’t be out of the water but he has since gone beyond the need to question anything. There are also sheets of parchment scattered across the surface, neat lines of notes, scribbles and diagrams are scrawled across most of them. Calypso — Jeonghan — must notice Wonwoo staring because he waves a hand and the sheets stack themselves up before sliding to one side.

“We have done as you asked,” Junhui says suddenly, snapping Wonwoo out of his examination and Jeonghan returns his gaze to him. “We have found humans willing to vouch for us.”

Jeonghan hums, thoughtful, as he looks between Wonwoo and the rest of the crew, surveying them like cuts of meat at an offering. “I can see that. Unfortunately, there is more that I need from them before I can return your Song to you.”

“What?” Junhui exclaims, shooting to his feet. “You told us all we’d need to do is convince them to help us without any of our powers, which we have done!”

Jeonghan crosses his arms, as he looks over at Junhui from where he is examining a perfect fingernail. “Hmm, yes, I did, didn’t I? But that’s because that’s all I needed from you. Your humans will need to be tested now, to prove that they aren’t here for reasons other than to help you. How else am I supposed to know you haven’t just offered to pay them in gold or power?” There is a glint in Jeonghan’s eye that unsettles Wonwoo and he is finding that he wants to be here less and less the more that Jeonghan speaks. “Besides, everything comes with a price and your Song is worth a whole lot more than treacherous seas. Don’t worry though,” Jeonghan continues, taking a step towards them and going right through the altar. Wonwoo’s eyes widen and he knows his jaw is hanging open but he can’t seem to move, even as Jeonghan cuts through the entirety of the altar and is standing right in front of them leaving a trail of water along its surface. Beside him, Mingyu makes a choked off noise and Jeonghan shoots him a sweet smile that has all the hairs on Wonwoo’s neck standing on end. “I will only need three things from the humans.”

“What do you want?” It is the first time Wonwoo is speaking since they entered the temple and he thanks all the gods that his throat isn’t as dry as it feels.

Jeonghan’s eyes flash dangerously. “How about we start with not mentioning the other gods in my presence. They’ve already written me out of the circle of Olympians, I don’t need any further reminders of that.” Wonwoo swallows but nods, taking special care to not even think about any of the gods. “Good. Now, let’s start with the first thing I need.” He locks Wonwoo with a fixed stare. “I need to know _why_ you chose to help the sirens. And tell the truth, I will know if you are lying.”

“W-What?” Wonwoo stammers, glancing at Junhui who can only look at him with wide eyes. “If you know when I’m lying then you should know why I’m helping them.”

Jeonghan comes up to him, fingers reaching to trace the line of his jaw with a nail that is way too claw-like for Wonwoo to feel anything but threatened. “I can’t see what’s in your heart, darling” the claw makes its way down to his chest where Jeonghan flattens his palm over Wonwoo’s heart. “I can only _know_ once something has been released into the world. Now, come,” he curls his finger into Wonwoo’s shirt and pulls him forward slightly, a smile curling on his lips that are surprisingly pretty. “Tell me what it is you’re keeping locked up in there.”

Wonwoo recoils, jerking backwards only to be pulled forward again by the inhuman strength of the claws still trapped within his shirt, and he realises that this isn’t a battle he can win. He gives one last feeble tug, just because he can, and when Jeonghan doesn't release him, he gives up. “Okay,” he says resignedly. “I’ll- I’ll be honest.” Out of the corner of his eye he can see Mingyu turn to him, and he can hear the sounds of Soonyoung and Seokmin shuffling nearer too. He takes a breath, closing his eyes as he coaxes the words out of him, the truth that he’s kept buried within him for so long it feels unfamiliar when it finally blossoms in his chest. “The reason, the _real_ reason I wanted to help them is because…” His fingers clench as the words catch in his throat again but he forces them out, turning to Junhui as he does so. “Is because I love you. I think… I’ve always loved you.”

“Wonwoo…” Jun’s voice is small as he stares at Wonwoo, eyes wide, and Wonwoo can’t tell what he’s feeling at all. Is he happy? Upset? Confused? Did Wonwoo just ruin things? Not like he had a choice anyway, not with the way Jeonghan’s claws were threatening to rip into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quietly. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I know we only just found each other again and…”

“Shh…” Junhui cuts him off but he takes his hand and squeezes, and a warmth unfurls in Wonwoo’s chest. “I promise this isn’t a rejection but… We’ll talk about this later, okay?” He glances at everyone else around them and Wonwoo gets the message. He squeezes Junhui’s hand in response and the smile Junhui gives him is enough to keep the tiny ember of hope within him alive.

“How sweet,” Jeonghan says, voice dripping with sarcasm but without any heat and, if Wonwoo’s eyes aren’t playing tricks on him, he’d even go as far as to say that the smile on Jeonghan’s face is more than a little bit fond. “I’m sure your friends will have other things to say but, for now, let’s move on. There are still two more things from you that I want.”

Wonwoo can’t help but shoot Jeonghan a bewildered look but he is smart enough to not ask questions. If that was all that Jeonghan needed from him, then he was more than happy to give it. His heart begins to race at the thought of the other things Jeonghan will ask of him, though, especially if they’re only going to get worse.

“What else do you want, Jeonghan?” He asks instead, voice thankfully not betraying his nerves.

Jeonghan’s smile widens and the glint in his eyes gets bigger. “Well, since you’ve already confessed once tonight, I want you to tell us your biggest secret because I know the truth about your feelings for Junhui here isn’t the only secret you’ve kept locked up tight in that sad, mortal heart of yours.”

Wonwoo’s heart sinks at Jeonghan’s words and he knows that no amount of pleading will make Jeonghan change his mind. In fact, Jeonghan will probably make it worse. Although, Wonwoo can’t think of anything worse in this moment than what he is about to say. He looks at Mingyu who gives him a small smile and a nod of reassurance before he takes a breath and allows himself to face his men. Or, what’s left of them anyway.

He turns away from Jeonghan, who looks mildly affronted, to face Seokmin and Soonyoung. Not out of any disrespect for Jeonghan, but because this confession is for his men, his friends, who deserve to know the truth. Soonyoung and Seokmin watch him with curious eyes, while Minghao shoots him a knowing look that he quickly follows with a small smile, which he suspects is the best he can get from him.

He squeezes Junhui’s hand once, more to feel the weight of Junhui’s hand in his, to remind himself of why they are here and why he is doing it, than anything else. “First,” he begins. “I just want to say I am sorry, in advance, for everything that I am about to tell you. I promise I didn’t mean to deceive you and whatever that I say, I just want you to know that I’ve never thought of you as anything but my family.” He takes a deep breath, willing his heart to stop thrashing around in his chest. “I- I’m not who you think I am. My father is reigning King of Areios and I am- I am next in line. I am the Crown Prince.”

Soonyoung’s jaw visibly drops and Seokmin’s eyes look like they are about two seconds from popping out of his skull. Wonwoo looks down, unable to watch as their expressions shift from stunned disbelief into anger. “What do you mean you’re the Crown Prince?” Soonyoung asks. His voice is low, serious, completely absent of the playful tone that he normally has in it.

Wonwoo sighs. He looks up to meet Soonyoung’s eyes and winces when he sees nothing but hurt and disappointment in them. “It means exactly what it means, Soon.”

“Don’t call me that!” Soonyoung hisses, recoiling from him and Wonwoo it feels it in his chest, like a piece of him is being torn away. “You lost the right to call me that by lying to me for the last ten years. What the fuck, Wonwoo?! What happened to ‘we steal from the rich to feed the poor’? You! You are the rich!”

“Please, Soonyoung, you have to let me explain!”

Soonyoung ignores him to whirl on Mingyu instead and Wonwoo takes a reflexive step to put himself in between them. “And you!” He snarls, glaring at Mingyu over Wonwoo’s shoulder. “You’ve been with Wonwoo since you were kids, right? So what are _you?_ Another rich kid looking to play pirates with the rest of us poor people?” The silence is deafening and it’s all the answer Soonyoung needs as he takes a step away from them.

“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo starts, softly. “Please, just, I know you’re angry and you have every right to be but please let me explain.”

“Why?” Soonyoung snaps, stepping back into Minghao who puts an arm around him. “So you can lie to us again? We treated you as our friend! Our equal!”

“So did I!” Wonwoo retorts, temper flaring. “You’re the only family I’ve ever had and the only family I want to have, aside from my brother. I hate my parents, the nobility, everyone rich enough to make use of other people for their own amusement. _That_ part has always been true!”

Soonyoung scoffs. “What, parents didn’t give you enough as a kid so you wanted to get back at them by stealing from them?”

“You don’t know anything, Kwon Soonyoung,” Wonwoo growls. “You don’t know what it was like to grow up as nothing more than a pawn for your parents, a puppet, something for them to groom and to control. I saw them treat the poor who came to us for help like _dirt_ , and every time I challenged them they whipped me and locked me up for days. I was never their son. To them, I was something they could mould into another version of themselves. I hated it, seeing them turn away people I knew they could help. It never made sense to me. So they beat me until it did. The day I sat in court and watched, without flinching, as a farmer got flogged in front of me for not producing enough fruit for the year’s harvest, was the day I told Mingyu I was going to leave. I couldn’t, I _wouldn’t_ become like them. That was a promise I made to myself, and why I did what I did for the last ten years.” He looks at Soonyoung who had been listening to him with lips drawn into a thin line. “I’m not telling you this so that you feel sorry for me. I just… I want you to know that this was never about me wanting more or not having enough. I hope that you can understand that and maybe even forgive me. Not today but one day.”

Soonyoung glares at him. “So, you ran away.”

“Yes,” Wonwoo admits, looking away. “Because I was afraid. I didn’t want to be like them.”

“And your brother? You mentioned you had one, didn’t you? What’s stopping him from becoming like them?”

“As far as I know, my parents still think of me as the heir. The advisor has been feeding them lies about me needing a sabbatical, that I will be back to claim the throne. It’s the only thing that’s kept them from grooming him to be King in my stead.”

Soonyoung shifts on his feet, arms crossing and uncrossing as he stares at Wonwoo. “We’ve been together for ten years, Woo. Why didn’t you tell us?” Something in him relaxes at Soonyoung’s use of his nickname but he knows better than to think he’s been forgiven.

“Did you see how you reacted? You would have dumped Mingyu and I off the ship without a second thought, and you know it. Although, I was going to tell you all eventually.”

“You’re planning on going back, aren’t you?” Soonyoung asks, the heat in his voice lowering to a simmer.

Wonwoo nods. “When we passed through Poseidon’s Halls I saw my brother and I can’t- I can’t leave him alone anymore.”

Soonyoung flinches at the mention of the gate and Minghao’s grip around him tightens noticeably but he finally relaxes, the tension and the fight bleeding out of him as he lets Minghao pull him against him. “I don’t forgive you, I can’t. Not yet, anyway. But you’ve always been good to us so I promise that I will try to understand.”

It is more than he could have hoped, if he was being honest. And it may not be forgiveness but he likes to believe that it is a step in the right direction. “Thank you,” he whispers before turning to Seokmin, who hasn’t said anything since Wonwoo’s confession. “Seok? Sorry, Seokmin?”

Seokmin shakes his head and his lips twitch into a small, sad smile. “You can still call me Seok but I’m with Soonie on this one. This is a lot to wrap my head around and I’m more hurt that you felt you had to lie to us. I don’t think I can forgive you yet too but just- give me- give _us_ some time?”

It hurts knowing that he’s betrayed his friends, hurts even more coming from Seokmin who has always been the most patient and understanding out of all them. But he knows it is what he deserves, if not worse, so he can’t do anything but return Seokmin’s smile with an identical one of his own.

“Of course,” he answers, quietly, because it is all he can give them.

He turns away from Seokmin and his gaze meets Junhui’s sympathetic ones but instead of reaching for him he jerks his head to the space behind Wonwoo. Wonwoo turns and is met with Mingyu’s already wet gaze and he feels his heart break even more. He wraps his arms around Mingyu and pulls him close, heart panging every time Mingyu sniffles into his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “This is all my fault.”

At that, Mingyu shakes his head vigorously before pulling away, eyes already red rimmed and puffy. “Is not your fault. I wouldn’t have let you go alone, and I wouldn’t have let you leave me behind either.” He is still sniffling slightly but his voice is firm and Wonwoo doesn’t think he could ever be more grateful for Mingyu. He reaches for Mingyu, wipes the tears from his eyes before glancing towards Jeonghan who is watching them with a gaze that is just a bit too hard.

“One more task,” he whispers, squeezing Mingyu’s hand before releasing it to face Jeonghan. “Since you’ve already taken my confession and the trust of my men from, name the last thing you want from me, although I can promise you there is nothing left for me to give.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jeonghan purrs, slinking towards him once more like he is gliding on air. He leans towards him until his breath is tickling the curve of Wonwoo’s ear. “You have to give me _someone._ ”

Wonwoo recoils, taking a step away from Jeonghan. “What do you mean by someone?”

Jeonghan smiles, teeth glinting a warning. “I mean exactly what I said. You’re taking a great source of power from me. I think leaving one person behind is suitable compensation. It does get oh, so lonely down here. Now, who will it be out of all the humans here?”

Wonwoo looks around him, at Mingyu who is still a bit swollen from the crying, at Soonyoung who is watching him warily, and Seokmin who has a hand firmly around Soonyoung’s and who looks a great deal more afraid than anyone else. The choice is glaringly obvious really.

He turns back to Jeonghan, who is watching him, a hint of mirth still apparent in his dark eyes. “Myself.” Mingyu immediately whirls on him and he hears intakes of breath from both Soonyoung and Seokmin. He almost misses the soft call of his name Junhui lets out but it doesn’t stop him because there is no other option for him. He has put everyone in this room through so much suffering, he will not condemn them to a lifetime of being trapped in a cold, damp, temple. Especially not with Jeonghan as their only source of company.

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asks. “There will be no take backs to this decision and you will be stuck here with me for the rest of your sad, mortal life.” There is something in Jeonghan’s voice that has him questioning his decision, just a bit, just enough to make him wonder why but not enough to make him actually reconsider.

Before he can confirm his decision, he is yanked to the side by Mingyu who drags them a couple of steps away from everyone else. “Wonwoo, you know you can’t do this. You have responsibilities! You have Chan to think about.” Mingyu is frantic, his grip around Wonwoo’s wrist is iron-tight and his gaze is almost imploring.

Wonwoo releases a sigh of frustration. “I know that! But I can’t do this to you, to any of you. This is a life sentence! I will not put this on anyone else but myself.”

“Put this on me,” Mingyu’s voice is desperate now and Wonwoo sees the worry that runs deep, not just for him but for everyone. But he can’t. If someone has to be punished it has to be himself.

“No, Gyu. Please don’t make me do this to you.” His voice is trembling and so are his hands. He didn’t even notice that he’d placed his own over Mingyu’s but they rest there, finger’s clutching Mingyu’s like a lifeline.

“You’re not. You’re not doing anything to me, I promise. I’m choosing to stay.”

“No. Please.” He’s almost in tears, the tremors having made it all the way through to his body. “I can’t do this without you. I can’t face my parents without you. It was always supposed to be the two of us.”

“Wonwoo, you know as well as I that you can do this with or without me. And I know I promised that it would always be the two of us but,” he nods towards where the group is behind him. “You won’t be alone. I know Junhui will support you just as much, if not more, than me.”

“Gyu…” He brings Mingyu’s hands to his lips, presses them against his knuckles as he squeezes his eyes shut and wills away the tears. It feels like something is being ripped to shreds inside him and he doesn’t know if he wants to cry or scream.

Mingyu pulls his hands away only to pull Wonwoo closer so that he can press a kiss to Wonwoo’s forehead. He brushes back the hair there as he pulls away and looks into Wonwoo’s eyes, his own so big and so earnest. So full of life. “You’ll be fine, Woo. Besides, you know you are the only thing standing between Chan and forced ascension to the throne. You _have_ to go. You will never forgive yourself if you don’t.”

Wonwoo reaches up a hand to cup Mingyu’s cheek, gently brushing at the tear tracks still there from before. His thumb traces the curves of Mingyu’s face as though he hasn’t already traced them a million times before, as though he doesn’t already have Mingyu’s face imprinted on his heart. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for leaving you here,” he whispers.

Mingyu smiles and places a hand over Wonwoo’s on his cheek, interlacing their fingers. “There’s nothing to forgive. Besides,” he leans in conspiratorially. “I think if I play my cards right, I might be able to get myself out of here sooner than you think.”

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo says, frowning as he leans back to study him but Mingyu only shakes his head. That has Wonwoo sighing in resignation. “Fine. But you have to- you have to find some way to write to me. I know Jeonghan will have a way.”

“I’ll try my best,” Mingyu answers with a smile before spinning Wonwoo around and shoving him back towards the group. “Now, let’s go get that Song back.”

When Wonwoo tells Jeonghan that Mingyu will stay in his stead, everything erupts into chaos. There are protests from Seokmin and Soonyoung, who refuse to let up until Mingyu firmly tells everyone that this is his decision. Even Junhui is shocked, and he spends the entirety of the time looking between Wonwoo and Mingyu like he can’t really believe this is happening. He even pulls Wonwoo aside at one point to ask if he’s sure and Wonwoo would be lying if he said his heart hadn’t swelled at the sentiment.

The only person who seems to have no reaction is Jeonghan. His expression is unreadable when Wonwoo announces his choice and remains that way when everyone has calmed down enough that Jeonghan can address them again. There is none of the smug posturing from before, none of the sultry allure either. He remains stoic, eyes darker than black as he shoots glances at Mingyu that are just as unreadable as everything else about him.

“You’re sure?” Jeonghan asks again, one last time for good measure and Wonwoo nods even as his hand reaches for Mingyu’s. Jeonghan’s eyes flash once but he doesn’t say anything except a bland, “Very well.”

Jeonghan turns around and strolls straight through the altar once more and Wonwoo has to quash the need to put his hand on it, just to see if it’s real. He waves a hand and a box rises up from the middle of the altar. The box is pure gold, studded with sapphires and emeralds and locked with a lock that has no keyhole. He reaches into his robes and pulls out a pearlescent dagger, which he uses to prick his finger once.

The drop of blood produced is pressed into the lock and it dissolves, completely disappearing. All eyes are trained on the box as the lid opens slowly by itself and a small ball of what looks like blue and green energy floats out of it. It hovers in the air for a bit before it disperses into little droplets, some of which enter Junhui and Minghao, and the rest of which shoot out the temple.

There is a gasp from beside him and he turns to find Junhui clutching at his chest and if Wonwoo had thought Junhui radiant before, he is nothing compared to what he looks like now. His eyes are definitely glowing a deep navy blue now and colour has returned to his skin too, in whatever capacity his skin contains colour. He is radiant now, skin almost glowing and there is something that sings to Wonwoo, he feels it in his heart as Junhui meets his eyes, and it draws him closer until it cuts off suddenly when Junhui breaks their gaze.

Minghao is the same except the one who lets out the breath is Soonyoung, who looks like he is about a second away from taking Minghao right then and there until, he presumes, Minghao stops the singing to him too. It doesn’t stop Soonyoung from pressing a kiss to his lips, which has Seokmin retching in mock disgust. It brings a smile to his lips, seeing the Song restored to its rightful owners, and he is just about to reach for Junhui too when Junhui stops him gently with a hand to his chest and a small peck on his nose. “Later. I think you should say goodbye.”

He points to Mingyu who has been watching the whole thing with a small, fond smile on his face, much like Wonwoo’s and the smile only widens when he meets Wonwoo’s eyes. He is tugged into the warmest hug the minute he is within arms reach of Mingyu but this time there are no tears to wet his shoulder. There is a tinge of bitterness though, as he looks at the smile Mingyu has on, the one he knows he puts on when he’s trying to hide what he’s really feeling. Wonwoo calls it his Nobleman smile.

It hits Wonwoo suddenly that this will be the last time he will ever see Mingyu again and something bubbles up in his throat that he presses into Mingyu’s shirt. “I’ll miss you,” he breathes, arms tightening around Mingyu before he pulls away just enough to look at him. “Please look after yourself. As much as you can anyway.”

“I think,” Mingyu looks over his head at something before he returns his gaze to Wonwoo. “I think I will be okay. Promise me you won’t worry about me too much.”

“Impossible,” Wonwoo mumbles stubbornly, which brings out a laugh from Mingyu.

“Hey,” he says, tilting Wonwoo’s chin up so that he can look down at him. “Without me around, you’re no longer betrothed.”

“Gyu! Now is not the time,” Wonwoo exclaims exasperatedly although he can’t help the small smile that pulls at his lips.

“Just a thought,” Mingyu answers with an obnoxious wink that earns him a smack on the shoulder.

The mood sobers again, though, as their smiles fade and the reality of it all really starts to sink in. Wonwoo reaches for Mingyu to pull him close until their foreheads are resting against each other. “I really will miss you, you know that right?” Wonwoo whispers into the space between them.

“Of course. And I will miss you too, my prince.” There is a finality in Mingyu’s tone now, and Wonwoo realises painfully that this will be the last time Mingyu will ever call him that. Something in him breaks and he closes the gap to press his lips to Mingyu’s one last time.

“I’ll love you always,” He says softly, his voice catching on the last syllable as the tears he’s been holding back the whole night finally spill.

Mingyu wipes them away gently. “And I you.” He steps back, his hands falling from Wonwoo only to be replaced by Junhui’s.

He looks at Jeonghan then, taking a breath to keep his voice steady. “I know that you’re a god and that, in the grand scheme of things, we mean nothing to you but,” his voice breaks and he has to take another steadying breath. “Promise me that you won’t hurt him.”

Jeonghan smiles, surprisingly gentle this time as he takes Wonwoo in. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” He turns to glance once at Mingyu and his smile twists into something else entirely. “Unless he wants me to.” Behind him, he hears Mingyu let out a choked sound. He turns around to find Mingyu flushed to the tips of his ears and he lets out a small laugh.

“Bye, Gyu,” he says softly. He meets Mingyu’s eyes in one last shared look that holds so much and still not enough, before he finally nods at Jeonghan.

Jeonghan slams his hand into the surface of the altar and Wonwoo feels a sharp tug just behind his navel and then he is being pulled backwards and out of the temple so fast that he barely has time to grab a hold of Junhui’s hand before he blacks out.

»»————-————-««

When he comes to he finds himself under blue sky (a normal blue now, not the striking cerulean it had been when they were travelling) and the faint warmth of early morning sunrise. He squints against it, lifting a hand to cover his face against the light. There is a weight on his other hand, though, and he is met by a loud groan when he tries to move it.

He turns to find Junhui, sprawled half atop of his arm and half on top of Soonyoung who is looking and more and more disgruntled by the second and he can’t help the small laugh that bubbles out of him at the sight. They made it. They made it through the three gates, they faced Calypso — Jeonghan — and somehow made it out alive and with a ship that didn’t actually get destroyed in the sinkhole. There is a tinge of bitterness, though, because while they’d made it out alive their trip did not come without a loss. His own loss, in fact.

He feels Mingyu’s absence like an ache in his chest, like someone’s taken a knife in an attempt to shore out the bits of Mingyu he’d kept there but they hadn’t done a good job and now everything that was ever Mingyu to him is a mangled, bloodied mess. Mingyu has become the phantom limb he never thought he’d have, so very present in his absence that he can’t tell if he is really gone. Such is the reality of having the only person who’s been by your side since you were a child taken from you.

Beside him, Junhui stirs again and Wonwoo returns his attention to the siren — who is very much a siren at this point, tail and all — and a warm sweetness rises in him, a counterpoint to the bitterness. Junhui opens his eyes, and they find him immediately, a brighter, more brilliant blue under the sun as they stare at him for what feels like forever before Junhui is rolling over and burying his face into Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the skin there, breath always just a lick colder than the air around them. “For Mingyu.”

Gods, what did Wonwoo ever do to deserve someone like Junhui. He rolls onto his side too, ignoring for a moment the fact that they are lying on the very hard, damp wood of the main deck, and winds an arm around Junhui’s waist to pull him closer. His heart calms the minute he feels Junhui’s skin on his and he revels in it, in the effect Junhui can have on him. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “For understanding.”

Junhui lets a small huff of breath which causes goosebumps to rise where it lands on his skin. “No, thank _you_. For doing this for me. You had to leave your best friend behind, for me and my kind. You deserve so much more than my understanding.” There is a weary kind of sadness in Junhui’s voice and Wonwoo knows that he means more than that.

Wonwoo pulls away carefully so look at Junhui, who is still resolutely buried in the crook of his neck. He brushes back the strands that have fallen over his face before placing a small kiss against his temple. “I still love you, having to leave Mingyu behind hasn’t changed that, even if- even if you might not feel the same way.” Junhui pulls away from him, mouth poised to answer but Wonwoo places a finger against his lips. “No, not now. We’ll- We’ll talk about this later when we’re not lying on a damp wooden floor and surrounded by my crew.”

He looks around and, sure enough, he sees Seokmin lying barely a foot away from his feet and the rest of them, the ones who hadn’t made it to Calypso — Seungcheol, Vernon, Joshua and Jihoon — are standing around them with shocked faces like they’d fallen out of the sky, which they probably had for all Wonwoo knew.

Placing one last kiss on Junhui’s temple he slowly eases himself out from under Junhui and into a sitting position. “Cheol?” He asks and Seungcheol jerks like he hadn’t expected them to actually be real.

“Oh gods,” he breathes, taking a slow, careful step closer. “Wonwoo? Is it really you?”

Wonwoo huffs out a laugh at the mixture of emotions of Seungcheol’s face. “Yes, it’s me. It’s us. We’re back.”

“Gods,” he breathes again before he’s rushing at Wonwoo and throwing himself onto him, which almost knocks Wonwoo back down to the ground. “You’re alive! You made it out and you’re alive!”

“We are,” Wonwoo says with a laugh as he wraps an arm around Seungcheol. “We are, Cheol.”

“You have no idea how worried we’ve been. Our tethers didn’t hold and we were flung back into the water, saved only because there were sirens stationed every couple of feet around the sinkhole. They brought us back to the surface before we could drown. And then the ship appeared but it was empty, and we didn’t know if you actually made it or if you drowned. But we hoped you’d made it and…” He pauses and pushes himself away so that he can meet Wonwoo’s eyes. “Wait a second, where’s Gyu?” He looks past Wonwoo and Wonwoo can see him counting, searching, trying to make sure he hadn’t missed Mingyu by accident before he sits back on his haunches. “He’s not here.”

Wonwoo looks away. “No, he’s not.”

Seungcheol freezes, pulling away to look at Wonwoo as if he can somehow pick out the joke if he looks hard enough. “What do you mean he’s not? What happened?”

Wonwoo flinches at the accusatory tone in Seungcheol’s voice and decides that enough is enough. He’s lied to his crew, to his _friends_ for ten years, he will not do it anymore. So he comes clean. He sits there and he tells Seungcheol everything — from waking up on a lightless beach, to Calypso, to the price he’d had to pay, all the lies, the deceit, everything about who he is. He spills it all out. Sometime after he starts, Vernon comes around to join them but Wonwoo doesn’t falter.

He tells them everything, even when the rest of them start to wake up and when Junhui comes around to sit beside him, not doing much, just the occasional brush against his thigh or lower back in encouragement. It is all the support he needs to get the story out, to relive it again in his mind; all the emotions — the fear, the guilt, the loss.

When Wonwoo is done Seungcheol looks like he’s halfway between wanting to hit Wonwoo and wanting to hug him and, if Wonwoo was being honest, he’d rather Seungcheol hit him. Even if he knows that it could not even begin to make up for everything that he’s done, he figures it is something he deserves. Seungcheol must see something in his face, in the way he looks up at Seungcheol, equal parts challenging and pleading, because he hits him. Hard.

Knuckles collide with the high of his cheek and he feels his brain rattle around in his head. The world is still spinning when he looks back at Seungcheol and he can feel the blood pulsing in the point but something in him unravels slightly and for that he is grateful. Junhui flinches but Wonwoo puts a hand on his thigh and he stills a glance at Wonwoo.

“You deserved that,” Seungcheol growls, low, as he cradles his hand.

“I know.”

“And you’re a coward.”

Wonwoo sighs. “I know that too.” The hand on his thigh tightens reflexively and he places his hand over it in what he hopes is a placating gesture.

“But,” Seungcheol starts again. “For what it’s worth, I do think you’re a lot less of a coward now. But, like the rest, you know I cannot forgive you just yet but I promise I will try. Especially if you go back and become a King that we can be proud of.”

Wonwoo feels that like an arrow into his heart and he doesn’t know if he is flushing or if he’s crying (or both) but he surges forward to pull Seungcheol into a hug. “I will,” he whispers into the front of Seungcheol’s shirt where his face is pressed. “I promise.”

Seungcheol gives him an encouraging pat on his back. “Good. Now, I think you have some other matters to discuss with a certain siren.” He shoots Junhui a look that Wonwoo doesn’t even want to decipher.

»»————-————-««

Despite Seungcheol’s swift dismissal, Wonwoo doesn’t get around to talking to Junhui until later on in the day. Wonwoo, who everyone decided would still be Captain until such a time that he decided to return home, had to do his rounds, which mainly involved making sure everyone was accounted for and unhurt (as much as possible). Junhui also had to tend to himself and the other sirens, especially Minghao who, like Junhui, had been stuck on dry land for longer than was comfortable for them.

By the time they finally sit down together — alone, for once — the sun is almost at its apex and the air is sweltering. Most of the crew had decided to take shelter below deck or in their rooms but Wonwoo had chosen to hang about in the suspended rowboat, which he is lucky happens to be on the side of the ship facing away from the sun. This means the rowboat has at least another hour of blissful shade before the sun truly hits its highest point and forces Wonwoo below deck as well.

Junhui had found him like that, legs hanging over the edge of the rowboat as he tosses an apple about in his hands and had promptly joined him, his tail shifting back into his legs as he hauled himself up the rope Wonwoo had let down.

“You’ve gotten much better at that,” Wonwoo muses, watching as the last patch of grey on Junhui’s legs morphs into the hem of his shorts as he collapses onto the bench beside him. He swings his legs over the edge of the boat too, a perfect mirror image of Wonwoo.

“It’s a lot easier now, with the Song running through our veins. It doesn’t take as much of an effort.” Junhui turns to him with a smile, sharp teeth gleaming unfairly under the sun. A perfect predator. A perfect picture. Wonwoo saves it, tucks it away into the drawers of his memories.

“Does this mean you can stay on land longer too?” There are a whole bunch of implications in the question that he hopes Junhui will miss. Or maybe he doesn’t hope, he’s no longer sure anyway, not with the way Junhui is looking at him with his beautiful, midnight hair falling over his beautiful midnight eyes.

Junhui leans over, just enough that their shoulders brush each other’s lightly and his lips can tickle the curve of Wonwoo’s ear. “Why? Are you planning on keeping me on land, _my Prince._ ” He whispers the last two words and it sends shivers down his spine. Wonwoo wraps his fingers around the hand already trailing up his chest.

“Jun,” he says, or chokes, he’s not even sure if the word made it out of his mouth in its entirety. “Jun, we need to talk about-” he swallows. “We need to talk about what I said when we were with Calypso.”

Junhui slumps back against the side of the boat with a huff and a pout that Wonwoo really wants to kiss off his face but he can’t. Or he won’t. At least not until he knows where they really stand. “I guess you’re right,” Junhui mumbles and Wonwoo caves, reaching for his hand to thread their fingers together. He can give them that much at least.

Wonwoo brushes his thumb against the back of Junhui’s hand in consolation as he tries to calm the storm in his chest. “Jun,” he begins and he hates that he’s so afraid, that the part of him that’s always doubted the truth of their feelings is still _there,_ still feeding the doubts long since planted in his mind. “You already know-” he pauses, has to take another breath and Junhui squeezes his hand encouragingly. “You already know I love you. I think- I think I’ve loved you since the summer we first met. You were so beautiful then, and you’re just as beautiful now, but I remember seeing you and being so completely captivated that all I wanted to do, even then, was just be with you. And then you left and I was left wondering if you had been real. If what I felt was real.” He looks down and his voice drops to a whisper. “I sometimes still wonder if it’s real.”

“Wonwoo,” Junhui whispers, releasing his hand to cup his face and bring it back up so that they’re looking at each other. “If you’re asking if I ever used our Song on you then know that I would never. Because as much as you were taken by me, I was so taken by you. You, who approached me first without me ever singing a note to you, who was never ever afraid of me, of what I could do. I smiled and you smiled back and, I think, I think I gave you my heart right then. I risked everything to keep coming back to you, and when the Council found out I was put under close watch and never allowed out alone again. But you have no idea how much I missed you. And when I saw you again, when I saw you on that rowboat, I knew why the Council was so afraid of me going back.”

“Why?” Wonwoo’s voice is low and somehow his hands have made their way into Junhui’s hair, and he pulls at a lock currently hanging over his eyes and tucks it behind his ear gently.

“Because I would have moved oceans for you, Jeon Wonwoo. And I still would.” He smiles small before pulling Wonwoo in until their foreheads are touching. “I love you, _my Prince._ ”

Wonwoo kisses him then, not the rough desperation that most of their kisses had been before but soft and gentle until Junhui is gasping and he licks into him, savouring the taste of him in his tongue. His hands thread through Junhui’s hair, pressing him closer until he is no longer sure when he ends and Junhui begins. It is intoxicating, kissing Junhui with the knowledge that he loves him back, that they feel the same way about each other and always have.

He pulls away to trail love down his jaw and he presses kisses into his neck bringing the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard out from Junhui, and Wonwoo thinks he will never need to hear Junhui sing if this is what he can listen to for the rest of his life. And then Junhui is in his lap and Wonwoo hands are on his hips and it is Junhui’s lips leaving marks on his necks and pretty noises falling from his mouth. He kisses over the curve of his neck, smiling when Wonwoo lets out a moan and then his teeth press into the skin there and Wonwoo’s breath catches in his throat.

There is fire now, burning along the trail of kisses Junhui left on his skin and he wants nothing more than to be consumed by it. So when Junhui asks if he can, whispers it into the spit-slick skin of his neck where Junhui’s been dragging his teeth against, he gives in without a second thought. He feels Junhui smile against his skin and then his teeth sink into him and Wonwoo bursts into flames.

They break apart when Junhui is sated, gone almost completely limp from where he’s still resting in Wonwoo’s lap, occasionally giving the wound small licks so that it heals faster. Wonwoo trails a finger over the curve of Junhui’s spine, content despite feeling like he’s just died and been reborn from his own ashes. “You know,” he says finally, once his heart has stopped thrashing against his rib cage. “I think I’m falling in love with you too.” Junhui makes a disgruntled sound and Wonwoo laughs, his fingers never leaving the bare skin of Junhui’s back. “What? You know as well as I that being in love is a completely different thing and we’re not the same people we were back then. But, I think that I am falling for you again, my beautiful Wen Junhui.”

Junhui huffs, curling even closer to Wonwoo as he traces the lines of his collar bones. “You’re such a sap. But, if you must know, I’ve already fallen for you. The day you agreed to help us, against the wishes of your friends, you had my heart in your hands, once again.”

Wonwoo wraps his arms around Junhui, pulling him impossibly closer before placing a small, chaste kiss on his forehead. “And you say I’m the sap.”

They sit in the quiet for a while, Wonwoo watching as the edge of the shade creeps closer and closer to them as the sun climbs higher and higher. He feels gross, sticky with sweat, but Junhui’s body is cool against his, fitting so perfectly in the space between his arms that he doesn’t think he’d want to be anywhere else in the world.

It is only when the edge of the shade goes past his feet and the sun’s rays hit him that he speaks, softly, like he is afraid that his voice will shatter the peace that’s fallen over them. “What’s going to happen now?”

Junhui shifts and Wonwoo knows without looking that Junhui is looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Wonwoo’s hands tighten around Junhui. “You know I’m going back to reclaim my title. And you, you’re not made to be on land.”

“Do you not want me to stay with you?”

The slight hurt and confusion in Junhui’s voice is enough for Wonwoo to pull him closer as he presses kisses into his hair. “No! Of course not. I don’t know if- I don’t know if I can survive losing you again. I just don’t know what will happen. Or what we can do.”

Junhui twists, removing himself from Wonwoo’s hold until he is straddling Wonwoo’s lap and looking at him. “If you want me to stay, I will stay. With the Song in me, I can stay in human form for a lot longer.”

Wonwoo brushes a thumb against Junhui’s hips where he’s grasping them. “But, your Council…”

He trails off and Junhui reaches for him to brush their noses together. “The Council can do nothing. I am no longer a child. Besides, I’m not the only one with a human lover now.” He grins devilish and Wonwoo laughs before pressing one more kiss to his lips. Because he can. And when Junhui kisses him back, the smile still on his lips, Wonwoo knows that whatever happens, they will be okay.

»»————-————-««

_Dearest Wonwoo,_

_I’m sure you weren’t expecting your invitation to reach me since all your previous letters have gone unanswered (I promise you, that was not of my own volition), but it has and I have finally been granted a pen and paper so that I can respond._

_First of all, congratulations on reclaiming your title and on your engagement! I am genuinely happy for you, not that neither of us didn’t see it coming. I hope you are both doing well, and that Chan is also. I miss you incredibly. I get what you said in your earlier letters, this feeling of having a limb torn off, it feels like that sometimes. And sometimes I turn to tell you something only to remember you aren’t around anymore. Unfortunately, I don’t think it is something I will ever grow out of and, if we are the same, then I think it is the same for you too. Although, I am sure that it will get better given more time (it has to because I don’t think it makes Jeonghan very happy — but it is probably also the reason I am finally able to write to you)._

_Secondly, and most importantly, I am here to RSVP to your coronation. Believe it or not, Jeonghan seems to have warmed up enough to me to allow me to attend your coronation, on one condition: that he be allowed to accompany me as my date, of sorts. I think he is also incredibly lonely here, and it will probably do him good to get some fresh air, so to speak. I am sure you will say yes, and have already told him as much, but I felt I should ask you for formality’s sake._

_I can’t wait to see you again (it’s been far too long, two years!) and I’m sure there will be lots for us to catch up on. Just, promise me that you’ll try to be nice to Jeonghan, I swear he’s not as bad as he seems. Besides, I have some news for you as well (even though I’m sure you would have guessed by now) but I will only tell you this in person. Until then, you will have to live in suspense._

_Take care! Give Junhui and Chan my regards and you already know that I love you always._

_All my love,  
Kim Mingyu_

»»———- FIN —-——««

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it to the end, congratulations and thank you for reading this Big Girl. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome!♥︎
> 
> Find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/moonfleur_) or [curious cat](http://curiouscat.me/moonfleur_) ♥︎


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